Master
by ChemicalCucum
Summary: You never look and you never see, hiding behind an unrequited love, your safehaven, their pain your pleasure. The one who would always help and guide you will not always be there to ease your fears. What do you do when you lose the one you love? Hwoarang. Angst.
1. I

**Master**

**AN**: Updated and revised. Based on Baek Doo San's Tekken 6 ending. Rated M for sexual content.

**I.**

The air was suffocating, heavy. He grit his teeth, feeling his excitement build. The tension is almost unbearable, he needs relief, in whatever form it comes, though he still can't say exactly sure why he is here again, with her, with her plain Jane looks and mousy demeanour. He could have anyone at all, so why her?

She's panting hard, legs wrapped around his waist, her arms so tight around his neck she's almost choking him. She's mumbling incoherently, her face is pressed against his neck, hot, sweaty. He feels moisture and swears she is about to cry. He feels sickened. He knows he shouldn't be here; tormenting her further, digging his hole deeper, but he can't help himself.

He needs something, anything, to make him forget, anything to bring comfort. He'd had countless women the last few months, but only she brought some form of catharsis. She was like him, not by much, but closer to his pain than anything else and he hated to admit it, but he almost needed her. Almost.

He gripped her thighs tightly, trying to gather as much of her in his hands as he could get a hold of, pulling her hips into his own, moving deeper within her, harder, desperate to make it end, to release and feel the bliss of nothing and emotions spent. She gave a small cry, her fingers raking over his shoulders, he gave a moan himself, teetering so close to the edge. He quickened the pace and rocked against her so hard she gave a louder cry, her hands lacing back around his neck and through his damp hair, her head leaning back. She suddenly becomes tighter around his member and as he feels himself release inside her. She cries his name.

"Hwoarang…"

It wasn't loud, it wasn't filled with passion, or love, or even pleasure, but there was something there that caused his breath to hitch, for his teeth to grit and for his brief moment of pleasure to blind him with complete thoughtlessness, like a deer caught in the headlights. It sounded so small, so fragile, more grief-ridden than anything, though he knew by the sounds of her hitched moans that she was in the throes of orgasm like himself. Together their climax was more pain than pleasure.

He stilled completely, resting inside her, not moving, breathless and feeling suddenly sick and empty. This time there was nothing at all inside him. Nothing was expulsed, yet nothing was there to remove, like all the other times. Suddenly all the desperate pleading of his hands on her body and her frail attempts at pushing him away just moments before suddenly felt senseless. Was there even a genuine point to this desperate act to begin with? He took in the feel of her breasts still tightly pressed against his bare chest and realised for the first time he was naked with her. In all their time together, he had never been naked; only she. He preferred it that way.

He gathered his thoughts, eyes clamped closed, hands still firmly gripped to the thick flesh of her thighs. She said his name; she called his name after he had commanded her not to. Normally, he punished her for saying his name: with a look, a snarl, a warning finger. She was good at obeying, but not this time. He didn't feel as angry about it as he thought he would be; he just felt hollow.

"My name…"

He breathed it, barely above a whisper, his lips close to her ear. She buried her head into his shoulder, her body tensing.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I…"

She was breathless, panting; her voice was wavering and weak, like she was close to tears. _Please God don't start crying you stupid, stupid girl_. He grimaced.

"Don't…never again…" He hissed, finally letting go of her thighs.

There wasn't even much point in mentioning it, not really. He pulled away from her in one fluid movement and for a moment, she reached for him. If he had seen her face he would have seen a pained look but as it was, he did not wish to look at her just then; he felt disgusted.

He stood, and for the first time he felt exposed. He busied himself with pulling on his clothes as quickly as he could. Conveniently, they were lying on the bed behind them. They had started their sexual union on the floor; he was not concerned with comfort at the time of his machinations.

He paid no mind to the girl, turning his back to her and remaining silent. Truly he felt awkward and uneasy. He felt sickness, shame, guilt, anger, confusion. But the worst of all, he still felt that acute sense of despair, that same feeling that had taken hold of his gut and twisted it continuously since that fateful day several months back. He gritted his teeth, refusing to think about it.

The girl remained silent, though he could hear her shuffling behind him, retrieving her clothes. He mustered the courage to finally turn to her, and afforded a glance at her. In the warm evening sunlight that filtered through the partially closed blinds, she looked golden.

Her body is pale, with a bony ribcage delicately highlighted by the evening shadows. Her rear is large, shapely; it's appearance drastic on her small, scrawny frame. Her back is turned to him and she is pulling on that ugly floral dress that really doesn't suit her. He can't help but notice how small she looks, how fragile and delicate she is. For the first time, he is truly looking at her. Everything about her posture and movements is slow, deliberate, unsure and vulnerable. At this moment she isn't even aware he is watching her, she is all natural, in all her shame and uneasiness. He feels even worse.

Her back was still turned as she started fixing her hair, tying it up and clipping it back. He always thought it was a cute way of doing her hair, and it made her look better; naturally with her hair down she looked a little like a rat, in his opinion. The thought made him smile inwardly a little: of course, being nasty always made him feel better. Was what he just did to her nasty? Yes, perhaps. But then why didn't he feel better?

She turned to him, her large eyes failing to hide her sadness in an outwardly nonchalant expression; she is trying to be casual.

"It won't happen again, I don't know what came over me."

Her voice was small, unsure, her eyes downcast. He waved a hand, trying to be as relaxed as possible, though he suspected that she is well aware of his discomfort.

"Forget it. But don't do it again."

She bites her lower lip.

"I'm staying here for the night." He declares it abruptly.

He says it as a fact and she simply bows her head, "Of course."

But her tone is unclear. He knows that she knows full well he has every right to stay here, it's _his_ home now, but he knows she wonders sometimes why he imposes on her when he has other accommodation; he sees it in the way she looks at him sometimes. Why doesn't he just say what he really wants to say and that is for her to leave? To get out and leave the house to rot like he really wants? It's something he has asked himself many times. It doesn't matter how he dresses it up though, he feels guilt, and the sense that he owes it - not to her (as if he cared what happened to her) but to…

He stops himself. He won't think about it.

The girl was dusting her skirt, casting a quick glance up at him with unsure eyes. For a moment he sees a glimpse of pain, very different from her usual look of sadness. Sometimes she catches him off guard. The truth is he is not used to people like her; people who are quiet, calm, shrinking and filled with secrets. She is almost repulsive right now, and yet still, some small facet of him, for a brief moment, wishes to reach out and grab her and tell her everything is alright…

He stops himself again, tears his gaze from her, and before he can think, before she can speak, he simply leaves the room. Leaves her standing, bereft and again denying her the thing he knows she wants most. He suddenly feels the very strong urge to throw up.


	2. II

**II.**

He flicked on the light switch, entering the kitchen. His urge to throw up was thankfully nothing more than intense nausea, and he needed a drink to settle his stomach. Hopefully the girl hadn't removed the small stash he had (shamefully) placed in the fridge during his last visit. He knew she didn't approve but he didn't care, it was _his_ house after all.

But it certainly didn't feel like it. He stood in the kitchen; bare feet on cold tiles, staring out at the spacious room with a slightly pained look on his face and despair in his heart. The dark wooden furniture and accents glowed warm and golden in the dimming evening sunlight, trails of dust danced in the beams of light streaking the air. Everything looked warm, lived in, but so, so very empty, like the feeling of a long forgotten memory suddenly remembered. He had recollections of this room, and for a moment his urge to vomit raised its head again, but he contained himself, breathing deeply, rubbing tired eyes with a hand.

He wandered to the fridge, crouching down and checking the contents for his stash. He was quite surprised to find that his stash of beer and a lone bottle of vodka was in fact still there, albeit hidden at the back of the bottom shelf; that girl was full of surprises. For a moment he felt a little guilty, but ignored it as he removed the vodka along with some cola that was conveniently present.

Sitting down at the small kitchen table, he finally afforded himself the permission to think. He poured a hearty dose of vodka into the cola and sat back, heaving a tired, worn out sigh. He felt ashamed of himself as he knocked back his drink. But at this point, what did it matter? This was his home now, even though the thought was still alien to him after so many months. But the memories wouldn't stay at bay, the feelings wouldn't weaken and he felt thoroughly ashamed of himself.

He was sitting alone in the kitchen that once belonged to his Master, his _dead _Master.

He poured another drink, now with the intention of getting thoroughly drunk. If he was lucky the girl would stay the hell away from him and let him wallow in peace. He put his face in his hands and began to think. His Master was dead. This was the first time he had consciously thought that most dreaded of thoughts. But he couldn't run from it anymore. His Master was dead. Gone.

Never to speak, laugh or shout at him again.

There would be no more intense sparring that brought him to his limits, no more lectures when he stuck himself in places he shouldn't have, no more surprise kicks to the head to keep him on his toes. No more late night storytelling, no more playful fist bumps at a job well done or being dragged away by the scuff of his neck like a silly little child from a silly little street fight. No more disapproving glances when Hwoarang revved his motorcycle engine just to get a rise out of him or a shaken head when he made a boastful comment he knew his Master didn't approve of.

None of it, ever again.

It hurt him more than he had ever hurt before, and he gave a choked sob, gripping his face in both hands, curling up over the table. He was dead, the only person he had ever truly respected, feared…and loved. He was the father he'd never had, the voice of reason to his irrational, brash and brainless ways, his teacher, his friend. What was he going to do without him? What _had_ he done without him? It had taken him five months to admit to his death, he was a weakling. How could he be so scared and so frightened of being alone? It wasn't like him at all.

As far back as he could remember, he had always been alone, always looked after himself, did his own thing. He was constantly rebelling in all sorts of small ways: sneaking off to hang out and get drunk with his old gang, picking the odd fight to hustle money, sneaking women back to his room when he could. He hated following orders, so much so that he was even willing to stick his middle finger up at the military and high tail it out. His Master was the only person who could order him around without much complaint; though he still craved his own rule.

Well he had it now, and for a while he'd done all those things his Master clearly instructed him not to, but it didn't make him feel any better, he felt even emptier than before. The fights had no thrill, the alcohol no buzz, the girls no desire. He felt utterly and thoroughly dead inside, except when he was here, except when he was with _her_.

Knocking back another glass, he couldn't help but sigh with disgust, face crinkling up at the thought of her. Who was she anyway? A nobody. She wasn't even his type of girl. He liked good looking girls with sass and big tits. She was mousy, boring and plainer than unsalted potato chips, so why did he need her?

She was just the house maid. Someone Baek hired to keep the house and the dojang tidy while they were too busy training. Baek had said he liked her, thought she was a sweet girl. Perhaps that was it. She had Baek's approval, though Hwoarang could not for the life of him see whatever it was Baek saw, maybe that was just indication that he still had a lot to learn, but he was too arrogant to admit it; he grew up on the streets, he _knew_ people and he knew a boring, listless and useless individual when he saw one, and she was one of them.

But yet he couldn't pull himself away from her. It wasn't the sex, it couldn't be. He'd been sleeping with many women during the past five months. So what was it? Why did he _feel_ when he was with her and not with them? Was it because she shared his sadness? The girl had told him she saw Baek as a father figure of sorts, and she cried for months after hearing of his passing, was it that connection? She was the last thing connecting him to his old Master.

This house could not speak, it could not reminisce or reflect anything except its function, it could only give the impression of memories, but not the feelings.

How sad, she made him _feel,_ whatever the hell that meant. He wasn't a sap, he'd never had a steady girlfriend, only a string of women he played with and forgot about. Initially, pursuing her was all in good fun, she wasn't his type, but that didn't mean he couldn't fuck her as well, she was good looking enough for that. He just wanted something different; it gave him something to do, but now it was something he regretted.

If he hadn't wasted his time chasing after her, spending time with her and _getting to know her_ in order to seduce her, he might have just been able to kick her out of the house and abandon the place altogether, like he desperately wanted to.

He took another drink. He didn't love her, he was positive of that, so it wasn't out of any concern for her that he felt so torn up. No, he concluded, he felt torn up because he had tarnished something Baek had given him, or tried to give him. He had jeered in the face of something Baek had tried to teach him, of a value he had tried to instil. Of course, at the time, he hadn't realised it, but that just proved the point of his disdain even more; he was too arrogant and foolish to see or accept a lesson from his Master, even when it was in plain sight.

Why did she have to come here? Why couldn't he have kept his various flings and wild nights out a better secret? Of _course_ Baek knew about his sexual antics. He'd tried very hard to hide them from him, but nothing got past him. He was concerned of course; he didn't think it proper, running around and messing about, using women and sneering in the face of unrequited love and broken hearts. He had said it wasn't the way of an honourable man.

It wasn't that Baek wanted him to settle down or to even respect women, what he wanted was for him to be humble, to respect limitations and to be unassuming, kinder, calmer, _aware_ of those around him. She was part of that lesson. She was everything Hwoarang did not like nor want in a girl, so she was perfect, a true test of patience and forgiveness.

Though perhaps not so perfect after all, he mused with the hint of a grin on his face (he still could not help his conceit), swinging another drink. He'd gotten her in the end. Granted he'd had to work harder than normal. Not that the 'considerate, nice, get to know her and break her in' plan of action was new to him (his smirk widened; he'd gone down that route before many times to get a girl) but he'd never had to implement it on a woman with such low self-image before. The girl was furiously weak willed and unsure of everything. She was his opposite in every way. All the others girls had the challenge of simply being those who stuck by stronger sexual morals whereas she was just frightened of him.

It made him a little ill to think about, but Hwoarang couldn't help but wonder if Baek had actually thought about whether his student would end up sleeping with whatever girl he brought home. He _did_ need the help around the house and dojang and he _did_ have an extra room or two, but it was such a risky endeavour sticking a decent enough looking girl under the same roof as such a fiery, hot blooded young male. There was something Hwoarang just wasn't seeing.

By now he was fairly tipsy, and as such, he was feeling a little better. His mind was dulled; the pain of accepting Baek's death was easier to bear now. He was in the process of pouring yet another drink (extra vodka to speed up the process) when he noticed the girl in the doorway.

She was clutching the doorframe, quiet, uncertain, timid. Her eyes were large in the increasing haze, faint streaks of gold from the window behind him caught in her hair, giving her the appearance of a wounded angel. The observation made Hwoarang snort; he finished pouring his drink and knocked it back in a shot.

"Is that really wise?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her tone was shaky. Glancing at her face, Hwoarang could clearly see faint lines of tears down her cheeks. He turned away.

"No."

He was pouring another. She started fidgeting, tugging at the hem of her dress, her eyes glancing down, then back up to stare directly at him, as bold as she could dare.

"I'm worried about you." She whispered; her face turned away from him. He set the empty glass down.

"Whatever."

She looked pained, "Please Hwoa-"

She froze, his eyes shot up to her face and she faltered, "I mean…please don't do this to yourself."

He scowled, resting his face in his hand, looking at her from the corner of his eye, "It's really none of your business."

Why did she have to be so annoying? She looked hurt; Hwoarang glanced away again.

"I-I know I can't say or do anything that would make you feel better but I know that Baek wouldn't want you to do this to yourself-"

Two tight fists suddenly slammed into the table and Hwoarang was on his feet, his expression livid. The drinking glass tipped and shattered on the floor and the girl gave a loud, startled squeak, jumping back from the doorway.

"DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO ME ABOUT MY MASTER, _EVER_! YOU KNOW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HE WANTS!"

Hwoarang grit his teeth so hard it hurt, the enamel cracking under his ire. But he didn't care. The stupid girl had crossed the line. How dare she? What did she know? She knew fuck all about him; she knew fuck all about his Master as well. He wasn't going to sit down and let her flap her mouth off, telling him what to do?

Her eyes watered again, and she had pulled her arms around herself, "I'm sorry."

She was gasping, her face red, her head down. She looked so small and fragile that Hwoarang suddenly wondered just why he had gotten so angry, but he wouldn't question himself further despite the growing sense of guilt.

"Just go away."

He sat back down quickly, ignoring the broken glass next to his bare feet.

She did as she was told, quickly turning and retreating down the hallway. Hwoarang listened to her footsteps, a whisper of bare feet on wood and thought again how small she was. He gave a sigh, rubbing his suddenly aching head at the temples. For a brief moment he thought about going after her, but instead he took hold of the vodka bottle, by this time close to half empty and started downing it raw from the bottle.

He just wanted to stop thinking.


	3. III

**III.**

He'd been away a while. Despite his insistence on being trained even harder, Hwoarang had not managed to resolve his loss at the hand of the demon-plagued Jin Kazama. He had won fair and square, but his defeat the second time had humiliated him more than he had let on. Despite pouring everything into his training, he had no time to think and no escape from the doubts that had been clogging his mind.

He strutted up the pristine garden path, duffle bag slung over one shoulder with a hand, and the other hand in his pocket. It was nice to be back; hanging around the dirty street corners and grimy apartment complexes of Seoul's less than friendly quarters had become more and more tiring in recent years, and while his heart would always have a place for it, he found his patience for such a life growing thinner. He smirked a little; remembering Baek's insistence that he grow up and stop terrorising the streets like a petty criminal. Maybe he was finally _growing up_.

He pulled out the front door key from his back pocket and let himself in. He decided to make as much noise as possible to announce his arrival; despite his undying respect for his Master, he did enjoy pushing his buttons on occasion like he had done as a child, and he didn't believe anything would change that.

"Sabumnimmm!" He called with a cheer, dropping his duffle bag on the floor and stretching with a loud groan, deftly kicking the door behind him shut with a slam.

"I'm back Sabumnim! Did you miss me?"

Hwoarang grinned and gave a snort, then set about looking for his Master. He set off down the slim hall to the doorway at the very end; the study. It was the most likely place he would find his Master when he wasn't busy with training or other affairs.

Poking his head through the door the young man found the room empty, "Huh. Must be in the dojang then."

Just as he was about to turn, Hwoarang became aware of another presence behind him; he smiled, "Ah! I thought you'd be in here but I guess you-"

The person behind him wasn't Baek.

"Who-"

The person was a young, pale-skinned woman, in a blue dress with brown, limp hair. She was at the bottom of the stairway, one foot on the bottom step and her hand on the railing. She had an expression on her face that made Hwoarang think of a cornered mouse; he wasn't sure what to make of her.

"You must be Hwoarang?" She asked.

He shook himself, "Who the hell are you?"

The girl looked surprised, and she shrank a little before him, "I'm the…housemaid." Her voice was small and hesitant.

Hwoarang cocked an eyebrow. Say what? Housemaid?

Before he could ask more questions Baek came in through the front door. He was wearing his signature suit and hat, the one Hwoarang thought made him look like a mafia boss (something that always made him chuckle)

"Hwoarang."

Hwoarang snapped himself straight and bowed respectfully, "Sabumnim!"

He noticed the girl bowing also, albeit in a more reticent fashion.

"So you're finally back."

Baek was removing his hat and jacket; the girl came to take them from him and proceeded to hang them up on the nearby hanger, "I was wondering when you'd finally show up."

Hwoarang grinned a little sheepishly, "I had some things to take care of."

Baek gave a sigh, "I let you off this once Hwoarang but don't forget you were the one who requested my guidance and I am not impressed that you have taken so long to put your affairs in order. You are NOT to go off again like that until after the tournament!"

Hwoarang grimaced a little, "Yes Sabumnim." He bowed again. Baek straightened up.

"Well, we will begin this evening 8 o'clock sharp. In the meantime, I am sure you are wondering who our friend here is."

Baek gestured to the girl, who stood silently in the corner; Hwoarang had forgotten she was there, and suddenly felt very foolish over being told off in the presence of another; a pet peeve of his.

"I've been so busy training both myself and you, that shortly after you left I realised I needed assistance in maintaining the house and dojang. This is Nomi, the new housemaid."

The girl, Nomi, gave a small, polite bow to Hwoarang, "Pleased to meet you." Her voice was small and Hwoarang noticed she was blushing a little.

"I've already warned her about you," Baek stated, face serious. Hwoarang grinned.

"Well nice to meet you too I guess…Nomi? What kind of name is that?"

Baek shot Hwoarang a look. Nomi waved her hand sheepishly.

"Oh it's fine sir. Uh…it's Italian." She explained. Hwoarang shrugged.

"If you need anything, washing, food etc. Nomi here will provide it. We will be much too busy to look after ourselves, so Nomi will be in charge in providing for us." Baek explained.

"Niiice."

Hwoarang folded his arms behind his head, eyeing the girl thoughtfully, thoughts of all the pampering he could trick the girl into providing came to him, only to be interrupted by a slap on the arm from Baek.

"Sorry, sorry!" He straightened up.

"You will show the proper courtesy and manner when in the presence of others!" Baek snapped, giving the younger Korean a look.

"Yes Sabumnim." Hwoarang mumbled. He felt a little irritated now that he had been told off not once, but twice, in the presence of another. The girl remained impassive.

"You may leave now." Baek said gently, turning to the girl.

She bowed and turned back towards the stairs, leaving without a word. Hwoarang watched her from the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on her rear end as she ascended. This was not unnoticed by Baek.

"She may be hired help, but you are not to hassle her or treat her like a slave. Be courteous and be reasonable. I won't tolerate you messing about!"

"Yes Sabumnim." Hwoarang responded, tearing his gaze back to his master's face.

Baek was giving him a look, the one that made Hwoarang uncomfortable. It was an attentive look, like Baek was trying to figure out what he was thinking at the given time, delving into his student's mind in order to figure him out and see what he was thinking. It always unnerved him, and while he was more open and comfortable with Baek than anyone else -he permitted his Master into parts of his life he would rather die than reveal- he still didn't enjoy being scrutinised. He was wary and cautious of anyone who tried to work their way into his life, and while he had reached a fairly relaxed acceptance of Baek's knowledge of him, there was still a lot he did not want the older man to be aware of.

Hwoarang looked back at Baek, and suddenly realised it wasn't his leering of the housemaid that was the issue, but his month of absence. It was already a thorny issue when he had decided to leave. He had practically begged Baek to train him harder after he had woken up bruised and broken in a hospital bed (the humiliation…) it was unpleasant, aching, and uncomfortable and Hwoarang had never felt smaller, sicker or more vulnerable than he did then; he had never bared himself so openly to anyone before and for a long time afterward he had felt almost ashamed of the fact that he had pleaded so openly before his Master. Whilst the rigorous training that pushed him close to breaking point kept his mind at ease, it was always in those periods of rest his feelings of embarrassment would come back.

He felt such shame in losing so easily to Kazama (he refused to acknowledge at the time that Kazama had the advantage of his Devil gene and it simply wasn't possible to defeat him) and his shame at begging at Baek's feet, virtually screaming and crying for another chance. These events served such a crippling blow to his ego that even Baek's understanding and instruction couldn't make him feel any better, and despite wanting to be trained even harder and to become even stronger, he felt sick around his Master sometimes.

He felt so insignificant, and as unaccustomed as he was to having been so open to him, he couldn't bear to be near Baek in his disgrace. It didn't matter that Baek understood and accepted it; he needed to accept it himself.

His month away had consisted mostly of stroking his own ego. He became reacquainted with his old crew and took charge, got into fights and made fools out of his opponents, gathered up the cash to replace his motorcycle with an even better one, and he had come out feeling more confident and ready to take on the rest of his training. So far, he was feeling ok, not too unsure, not too self-conscious, but then Baek just had to go and give him that damn _look_.

"We need a talk, you and I." He started.

Hwoarang simply nodded; his demeanour suddenly serious, "Yes Sabumnim."

Baek gestured for Hwoarang to follow him to the study, where they sat down at the table. The room was well lit, sunlight casting its rays around the room, giving everything a warm, relaxed feeling; but Hwoarang felt anything but relaxed.

Baek was silent for a moment before he looked over to his student, who sat fidgeting slightly, twisting his legs underneath himself, fingers gripping the ends of the table.

"Your departure was sudden, but I expected it would happen," the older Korean began. Hwoarang remained silent.

"I could tell from the moment I agreed to training you further that you were not all yourself." He paused, looking thoughtful, "You seem more like yourself now."

Hwoarang did not understand where Baek was going with this. Did he want to catch up? Fill him in? He knew his Master knew full well what sort of things he would have been getting up to, and they were things the older man was not too inclined to know about unless he was affected by it in some way (namely, when training and instructing Hwoarang or when Hwoarang was present in his home for extended periods of time) or did he perhaps sense Hwoarang's discomfort from the very beginning? He had probably not hidden it as well as he could have.

"Yes Sabumnim I've…been feeling better."

He wasn't really sure what to say. When Baek remained silent he took it as a cue to continue, "I can't say why, but I needed to clear my head. I needed time alone."

His hands where now resting on his knees, "I was feeling out of place."

Again Baek did not say anything.

"Well uh…what I mean to say is…I really do want to train, I do want to get better, but at the time, my head wasn't all there. I was acting rash and not thinking things through. I should have taken the time to clear my head first, rather than diving right in and high-tailing it out halfway through."

This seemed to satisfy Baek, "You still have a lot to learn in regards to controlling your actions and feelings Hwoarang. You are still much too brash, and there is only so much I can teach you, eventually you have to learn from this mistake and see to it that you do not do it again. I will not always be here to guide you."

Hwoarang was silent. He knew Baek was right; he was always right. But all the same…

"Can I be honest with you, Sabumnim?"

Baek simply nodded his assent. Hwoarang was still for a moment, for the third time that day, he felt incredibly foolish. Was he really sure he could say what he really wanted to say? He knew the reason he had left was due to his inability to accept his openness with his Master, and that he would eventually have to confront the issue if he was to ever fully settle his discontent, but all the same, it was difficult, one of the most difficult things he had to face.

"If I'm honest I felt ashamed of myself. I felt ridiculous having begged you like that, and it's bothered me ever since. I just needed to get away from it."

Baek raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean 'ashamed'? What aspect of your actions could you have possibly felt ashamed about? For the first time you were truly humble with me, truly intent and with such a drive to achieve what it was you wished to achieve that it moved me, hak-saeng. Why you feel shame in that I do not know," he paused, "No. I know full well why."

He was giving Hwoarang that same look again from before; Hwoarang bowed his head, silent.

"You need to cast your arrogance away Hwoarang. It is your greatest fault, though perhaps it has served you well throughout life. But if you ever wish to live up to your name and become a true and honourable man, as well as a studious example of our fine art, you would do well to accept your more humble moments, treasure them and nurture them, without this ridiculous fear of appearing weak and vulnerable."

Hwoarang gave a small smile, "Yes Sabumnim, I'm not doing well by tarnishing the name you gave me or the lessons you teach me. Forgive me." He bowed where he sat and Baek gave a sound of acknowledgment.

"Always work harder Hwoarang; always accept your defeats with grace both in battle and out of it. Take their lessons and shape yourself with them. Life will always throw obstacles your way and they cannot all be solved by running away and denying your humanity under an arrogant, know-it-all guise of perfection. You would do best to learn this now; else your faults lead you somewhere you can't come back from."

"I will always find a way to come back Sabumnim, you are my teacher and you'll guide me on the right path with whatever lesson you'll give me."

For a moment Baek looked troubled, "No hak-saeng, I won't always be there to guide you."


	4. IV

**IV.**

His resumed time under Baek's watchful eye had restored Hwoarang almost completely back to his former self. He felt happier, his old arrogant confidence in his abilities not only restored but heightened to new levels with his vigorous training. In all that time, Hwoarang had pretty much forgotten about his initial conversation with his Master upon returning.

Perhaps it was just an indication of just how foolish he really was.

The training was hard (not that it wasn't already hard to begin with) as Baek had seen fit to intensify the training to new heights that initially stunned the younger Korean. Prior to his one month absence they had trained together for a total of four months and within that time Hwoarang had felt himself snapping under the strain.

Perhaps it was partly the fault of his feeling of shame, but all the same, he had found it more difficult to cope with than he wanted to admit (this was also an added insult to his pride's former injury) but now the training was even worse. So bad that even Baek appeared to be under much more strain than usual, something that Hwoarang at the time had not noticed.

Oddly, he was more capable of pulling through the hard workouts than he was previously, and it was largely due in part to his improved mood. He felt truly ready to push as hard as he could, and on more than one occasion in the following months he had endured such intense training that the pain had incapacitated him at points.

It was only at these times that Hwoarang had any respite, as Baek refused on each occasion to push him harder than the lightest of stretches and patterns. Hwoarang had found these small lapses (they never lasted more than a few days at a time) boring and frustrating, but had taken to resting up and settling back into living under his Master's roof as a past time.

At first, he had paid no attention to the additional member of their household. Initially Hwoarang spent the first two days sussing her out, evaluating her appearance and demeanour.

She was clearly a foreigner, with deathly pale skin, light brown hair and brown eyes. She was short, small breasted, with thick legs, large rear and a plain face. Overall she was the kind Hwoarang would pass over, though he had seen much worse.

As for her character, he was even less impressed. She was shy, stuttered often and refused to make eye contact with him. She came across as that typical, nice, gentle girl-next-door type he found so dreary (he liked fiery, vivacious girls with a mean streak). She was warmer and more open around Baek, but that was to be expected.

Hwoarang was initially taken back by Baek's reciprocation of warmth toward her, as he was usually very formal and distant around others. He was unduly kind and courteous to her, making small talk and asking her how she felt often. Altogether it was a side of his Master Hwoarang was not familiar with; Baek never asked him such questions except in relation to training. He had to question him on this.

Whilst the pair was relaxing briefly in the yard after a quick, intense sparring match, Hwoarang had asked why he was so considerate of the girl. Baek had again given Hwoarang that searching look that put him on edge, but it was quickly replaced with a small smile.

"You are to keep your hands off of her, if that is what you're enquiring about."

Baek folded his arms; Hwoarang was aghast.

"That is NOT what I meant!"

Hwoarang was completely dumbfounded by his Master's response; he never made mention of these things and it disturbed the younger man.

"She's been living in Korea for just over a year, she was originally looking after a close family friend who died recently. She was looking for work and a place to stay, so I took pity on her when she came here inquiring about the vacancy."

"Heh. That explains why you're so nice to her then."

Baek was silent for a moment, looking at his student intently.

"Yes," he said slowly. Hwoarang cocked an eyebrow; it wasn't like his master to be evasive.

"She is…of a delicate persuasion," Baek was staring quite hard at Hwoarang, "She has been through much recently and with her natural manner it's been hard for her."

Here Baek paused, watching Hwoarang intently, "You're to be gentle with her, you are not to tease her or mess her around like I know you normally would."

Hwoarang couldn't help it, but he had to laugh out loud a little, only to cut himself short when Baek made a noise.

"Behave yourself and show the proper courtesy to your elders!" he snapped, Hwoarang bowed low.

"I'm sorry Sabumnim but that was so unexpected!"

Baek glared at the younger man, "You are a brash, cocky and childish fool! I do not care if you think my order is utter nonsense for you to wave your hand at with a sneer, but you will listen to me and do as I say. You are to be nice to the girl. You are NOT to torment her or to 'play' her as you call it."

Hwoarang finally managed to gain his composure somewhat, "Yes Sabumnim. I only laughed because the girl is so boring to look at that-"

A swift smack to the back of his head caused Hwoarang to clamp his mouth shut.

"Yes Sabumnim."

After that, Hwoarang made no mention of the girl to his Master again.

But all the same, old habits were hard to die, and despite the fact that his training consumed most of his time, Hwoarang couldn't help but let his thoughts wander on occasion. Since coming back he hadn't been with a woman (as if Baek would let him), and no amount of training would quell such a potent male urge.

It started innocently enough with thoughts of teasing the girl and embarrassing her. But as time went on he started to enjoy the feminine presence so close at hand. It was unusual for him, as his ideas of women were formed in bars and back alleys and he never spent time around them outside of the bedroom to get a better understanding of their wiles and ways, so he was curious at this new perspective, and since there was no other women around for the girl to compare to, she became the only target, and Hwoarang was finding himself more and more interested in her when she bent down or when there was a small show of skin (she was very modest) or when he caught the delicate scent of her shampoo.

He had done well to hide his leering from Baek, by refraining from noticing the girl at all whilst in his Master's presence unless she spoke to him. So far, he was sure his machinations had gone unnoticed.

He caught on early that she was attracted to him, and while of course, it was only natural she should feel that way, he couldn't help but be pleased by it; looked like even good girls wanted a bad boy after all. The first time he had noticed her interest in him was three weeks after his arrival. In all that time he had never spoken more than a one-worded command or a hello when they crossed paths, but that was probably all the girl needed to establish curiosity.

He had been in the back yard, warming up before heading into to the dojang for a proper session with Baek. He had been performing various patterns of kicks, getting his body loosened up. The day was fairly warm and bright and it didn't take very long for Hwoarang to work up a sweat with the heat of the sun directly above.

The girl had come out with a basket of washing to hang just as he removed the sash of his dobok. He initially did not notice her standing, gaping slightly as he pulled either side of the shirt apart, exposing his torso, and had proceeded to continue with his workout.

Every so often he would turn his gaze to watch the girl hanging the laundry. She seemed to be oblivious to him for a while, so he paid her no mind and focused intently on his workout. It was only some time later, when he was finishing up, hands on his knees, sweaty and panting that he caught the girl peering out at him from behind a particularly large sheet hanging on the wash line when he turned his head to look.

It was only a brief moment, but he could tell she had been watching him for some time judging by the dreamy expression on her face. It was quickly replaced with a look of shock and embarrassment, and she had proceeded to quickly hide behind the sheet when she saw him look up.

Hwoarang couldn't help but grin. He straightened up, gave a wide stretch and snickered a little, "Its ok sweetheart, I know I've got a good body, I can't blame you for looking!"

There was no response. He shrugged and readjusted his sweatband, figuring the girl was probably dying of embarrassment behind the sheet; he gave a laugh and proceeded for the back door of the house, meaning to pass through and head for the dojang.

He caught a glimpse of the girl as he walked past. She was crouched down and her hands were covering her face. She managed to see him through her hands however, and as Hwoarang flashed her a toothy smile; she became redder.

It wasn't until sometime later that Hwoarang bothered to confront the girl more directly. It had happened due to circumstance only, but it was after the fact he started getting ideas of what to do with her. There was no harm in just teasing her lightly right? He wasn't being cruel or forcing himself on her, that's what Baek ordered right?

If only he hadn't have been so thoughtless.

He had unwittingly been caught up in a bad memory whilst training intensely with Baek in the dojang. Baek had been pushing him harder each day and Hwoarang was struggling to think straight in order to avoid the flurry of kicks and punches Baek assailed him with. He was tired, he was getting sloppy, Baek had said as much with indignation whilst they were sparring and Hwoarang was starting to lose his composure.

"You're getting sloppy hak-saeng! Do you ever hope to defeat me with moves like this!?"

Hwoarang could not explain why the question had taken him off guard, but it had, and he found himself wandering back in his mind to his fateful confrontation with Jin Kazama.

_"Your moves are bad Kazama! You expect to beat me like this?" _

He suddenly felt angry. Not just at his loss after Kazama had pursued him under the influence of his Devil Gene, but at himself for even saying such a thing. Sure, he had beaten Jin fair and square and he deserved to feel proud, but he was still defeated in the long run and he felt very foolish all of a sudden. Jin showed him up and had mopped the floor with him, left him a wreck that could only beg and plead and scream and even though the begging had been at the feet of his Master (he would absolutely _never_ beg at the feet of Jin or anyone else) he felt so disgusted.

He thought he had gotten over it, but he was suddenly seeing red at the memory of his humiliation, and before he knew what he was doing, he was becoming more and more reckless in his desire to win, getting the power to defeat his rival blinding him from his usually cool fighting demeanour.

Baek suddenly dropped, his right leg deftly swinging out to catch Hwoarang's ankle. Hwoarang just barely caught the move and leapt out of the way, his left leg swinging around straight for the side of his Master's head. It was blocked easily, and Hwoarang suddenly found himself flat on his back and rolling to the side to avoid a heel to the chest. He quickly righted himself and launched a kick, intending to hit Baek on the side of his ribcage.

The move was too hasty however, and Hwoarang failed to notice Baek's change of stance, resulting in his leg being nimbly caught under the crook of Baek's arm. Instead of registering what was to happen next, Hwoarang pulled himself in such a way that when Baek brought his free arm down, it caused a very sudden and intense pain to shoot from his knee and shin. Hwoarang gave a loud cry and Baek let go of his leg, whipping down beside his fallen student in an instant.

"You fool! You clearly could have anticipated that move and avoided my counter!"

Baek pulled up the leg of Hwoarang's dobok to inspect the damage. Already an intensely nasty bruise was forming around the area just below Hwoarang's knee. He pressed around the shin, feeling out the damage and checking for broken bones. Hwoarang hissed, panting hard. Baek knew the extent of the damage would spread and effectively cripple his student for a few days at least. He gave a sigh.

"Just what has gotten into you? You have not made a mistake like this since I first began training you."

Hwoarang bowed his head.

"Forgive me Sabumnim. I became too hasty."

"Something has bothered you, clearly." Baek noted.

Hwoarang was still for a moment, eyeing his increasingly swelling leg with disdain.

"No." He lied.

Baek knew of course that this was not so, and Hwoarang knew that he knew this, but he did not wish to speak of it. Baek respected Hwoarang's unspoken wish and rose, offering the redhead a hand.

"Come, you will need some ice applied to that. I will have Nomi tend to you. You're going to be out of action for a few days."

Hwoarang groaned, that same feeling of shame and disgust washing over him. Baek stood silent, staring down at Hwoarang with an expression the young man could not read.

"I'm sorry Sabumnim."


	5. V

**V.**

Baek had helped Hwoarang back to the house and to the front room, where he sat Hwoarang upon the floor next to the table before calling for Nomi. The girl came quickly, bounding down the stairs with barely a sound. Hwoarang noted how graceful she was. He thought it funny because she was so awkward in every other way.

She was in the hallway with Baek, who was giving her instructions to fetch the ice and some bandages and then to tend to his student's injuries. Hwoarang couldn't be too sure but he could have sworn he saw Baek lean down slightly to the girl and whisper something to her. He could not see the girl's face, so he couldn't be certain.

The girl returned a few moments later. Hwoarang had been staring at his injured leg with disgust, ignoring the throbbing pain, stewing over his own stupidity. He initially ignored the girl as she bent down beside him, too caught up in his thoughts to really consider her.

She was still for a moment, inspecting his leg. When Hwoarang finally cared enough to look at her, he noticed she was drawn back, staring intently at his leg like she did not know what to do next. She was biting her lower lip gently, like she was thinking hard. He could clearly see the girl was nervous.

"You don't have to worry about hurting me if that's what you're afraid of." He stated nonchalantly; he got the suspicion that that wasn't the issue.

"Sorry," she breathed.

She slowly reached out to pull the fabric of his pant leg up further, her movements where slow, delicate, like she was scared to touch him. Hwoarang remained perfectly still. She pulled the bag of ice from beside her, placing it delicately onto his leg. Hwoarang gave a small hiss, the girl snapped up a little to look at him. Her eyes where wide, expression unsure, Hwoarang gave her a small smile, a smile he knew could turn a girl to butter; she faltered, looking down again.

For a while they sat in silence. Hwoarang wasn't intent on doing anything at this point, so he simply observed the girl. She oftentimes flicked her eyes over to his face, before hastily looking away again when she saw he was staring at her. Her gaze was clearly not easily controlled, as it frequently fell on his exposed chest, something that didn't go unnoticed by the redhead.

He shifted slightly, deliberately pulling on the sides of his open dobok, exposing himself further, just to get a rise out of the poor girl; if she could tell he was teasing her, she didn't show it.

After a while, the girl saw fit to remove the ice bag from his wound and set about applying the bandage to his injured leg. He noted that she was hesitant to touch him and it wasn't out of concern for hurting him as her hand was positioned just above his knee, where there was no bruising.

He kept quiet, seeing what she would do. Gently, she laid her hand on top of his knee. Her touch was warm, timid. Hwoarang couldn't help but feel a little jolt in his stomach at the contact. He could feel her trembling against him, she had ceased to breathe and everything was deathly silent; he was enjoying this.

"Don't be shy." He breathed.

The girl did not look up at him; instead she hastily started wrapping the bandage around his leg, her hands trembling all the while. She was very gentle despite her clumsiness and Hwoarang barely felt a twinge from his leg. When she finished, she had wrapped the binding tight around his leg from just above the knee down to his ankle.

"That should do." She stated quietly.

Hwoarang pulled his leg into himself. It was stiff and swollen, and while it hurt he could move it enough to get around.

"Baek has asked me to tend to you completely for the next few days until you are settled enough to spar again," the girl started, "He doesn't want you putting too much strain on it for the meantime."

Hwoarang smirked, "So I guess I'll have you waiting on me hand and foot then? Doing whatever I ask you?" He asked slyly.

She blushed, "Yes."

"Don't you worry sweetheart, I'll be gentle with you." He teased.

The girl froze, completely abashed. Hwoarang laughed.

"You can't take a joke can you?"

She shook her head, "S-sorry, what a silly thing to think that-" She cut herself off. Hwoarang's curiosity was peaked.

"To think what?" He asked huskily, leaning over slightly.

"N-nothing." Her head was bowed low.

"It didn't sound like 'nothing' to me." Hwoarang whispered, shifting himself so that his good leg with tucked underneath him, his bandaged one stretched out.

He leaned over to her with his hands planted firmly on the floor. The girl shrank.

"No really, I just thought you were implying…" She trailed off.

"Implying…?" Hwoarang persisted, leaning over a bit more.

"Please!"

The girl suddenly cried; her hands clamped to the fabric of her dress at her knees.

Hwoarang drew back, "Sorry! Didn't mean to upset you," though in truth he felt quite happy with himself at getting a rise out of her, "I was only teasing."

The girl cast him a sideways glance, "Baek warned me you were like this."

Hwoarang smiled, "Yeah well, I just can't help myself around pretty girls."

He deliberated, leaning right back with his arms behind him. The girl went redder than he had seen her go yet.

"W-what…"

She started but her question died early. Hwoarang knew then that he had her exactly where he wanted her; clearly she was stunned that he thought she was pretty (not that he really did, but she didn't need to know that) and that opened up a myriad of opportunities to have some fun with her.

"You're a pretty little thing aren't you, Nomi?" Hwoarang purred, cocking his head slightly.

"Oh uh…thank you…" She breathed, not looking at him.

He smirked, "I think I'm going to enjoy having you tend to me. Maybe you'll be real nice and tend to me in more ways than one." He stated, grinning as she sputtered and threw her hands to her face.

"You're embarrassing me…you can't be serious?" She exclaimed, suddenly looking up at him; he looked back, fixing her gaze with his own, "Why would I be joking?" He simply asked.

The girl wavered, "No one's ever called me that before…" She looked away, "As if a guy like you would ever be interested in a girl like me."

"Awww don't be like that; you're sexier than you think, Nomi." Hwoarang drawled. Again she blushed.

"Don't think I haven't caught you checking me out either." He added. She didn't respond.

"We like each other no? So-"

It was at that moment Baek re-entered the room. He glanced at Hwoarang, who looked relaxed and up to no good, then at Nomi, who was sitting rigid on the floor with her hands still at her face. He sighed.

"Nomi, please fetch some tea for us."

"Yes sir." Nomi stood up quickly, spinning around and leaving the room briskly. Her hair managed to hide her visible embarrassment from Baek, but the grandmaster knew exactly what had happened.

"Hwoarang…" He started warningly.

Hwoarang shrugged, "She got jittery bandaging my leg, not my fault!" He exclaimed.

Baek eyed him for a moment, before walking around his student and sitting down beside him at the table.

"You behave yourself Hwoarang." He stated simply.

Hwoarang shifted himself next to his master, sliding his injured leg under the table and folding the other underneath himself, "So how long do you reckon it'll take before you'll spar with me again?" He asked.

"We will see," Baek stated simply, "In the meantime, you are to relax and keep that bad leg of yours stretched out with gentle exercise, but absolutely no patterns or practice until I say so."

Hwoarang nodded, "Yes, Sabumnim."

They sat in silence for a while. Baek appeared to be deep in thought, so Hwoarang did not make conversation. It was often that Baek thought deeply about things. From the beginning Hwoarang had always seen him as a stern, thoughtful and stoic individual, filled with wisdom and insight, but despite their relative closeness, there was much about Baek that Hwoarang did not know or was aware of.

Baek had never discussed his past or his family with him and there were was always something new to learn about his Master. He was more observant than Hwoarang initially gave him credit for. His warning off of Nomi and the revelation that he was well aware of Hwoarang's treatment of women had shocked the redhead. He had thought long and hard about how his Master had learned that he was a player of sorts (he certainly never told him). Or why he always seemed to know when he had been with his gang or just where to find him when he was picking a fight? The many times Baek had suddenly appeared in places Hwoarang was getting up to no good disturbed him at times.

Hwoarang fidgeted. He looked up as Nomi came back with a tray of tea for them. She kept her gaze lowered and crouched down to set the tray on the table.

"Is there anything else either of you would like?" She asked.

Her pitch was higher, more formal, not at all like it had been when speaking to Hwoarang just moments ago.

"That will be all for now, thank you Nomi." Baek responded, giving her the briefest of smiles.

Nomi smiled back, bowing slightly before rising and leaving the room.

For the moment Baek was quiet, pouring tea for himself and his student. Hwoarang said nothing as his cup was passed to him, staring at the liquid for a moment, considering what it was he wanted to say. Hwoarang's curiosity regarding his Master had been piqued again recently. Not that he wasn't always wondering what was going on inside Baek's head, but most times he kept his questions to himself after finding his initial inquiries of his Master all those years ago had led to nowhere; Baek was not open to Hwoarang at all if it did not concern his training.

"Sabumnim, may I ask you something?"

Baek glanced at him from the corner of his eye, "What would that be?" He sipped his tea. Hwoarang thought for a moment.

"You can read me like a book. No matter what, you just know where I am or what I'm doing. It's always bothered me," Hwoarang started, "How do you know?"

Baek was silent for a time. For a moment it seemed he was not going to respond to his student's question but then, "There are clues to all sorts of secrets all around us Hwoarang. Not just about you and your actions and intentions, but about all things, if you know where to look."

Hwoarang swirled his tea in the cup, wondering just what his Master meant.

Baek continued, "Stopping and listening, showing concern and attention to those and things around you, is a very important skill hak-saeng. You will never grow, or be able to look properly at yourself, if you cannot also look at and understand others."

"Why would I ever need to know anything about others? How does that have anything to do with me? All that matters is training and getting stronger." Hwoarang stated.

Baek gave a tired sigh. "No hak-saeng. While practice of the art is the most vital of points, there are other skills that matter, and while they play only a small part in the technical aspect of Tae-kwon-do, they play a vital role in the shaping of the individual, and by extension, of our art's very foundation: courtesy, integrity, perseverance, control and spirit. We can understand more about ourselves, our desires and the world around us, if we only stop to look and observe as well as act."

Hwoarang had no answer to this, so he ventured to ask another question, "What were you looking at then, when you mentioned-"

Baek raised a hand. "I know what you are going to say, so do not embarrass yourself by speaking it aloud. Hwoarang, you are a young man, I was young too, so I know those looks you give, I see how your conduct changes in the presence of women; it does not take a Master of observation to see the signs."

Hwoarang could hear the faint trace of humour in his Master's voice; he smiled.

"Sorry for asking Sabumnim, but I feel sometimes that I hardly know you."

Baek looked saddened for a moment, something Hwoarang did not register at the time; he was staring down at his half-finished tea, "There is a lot you've still to learn, hak-saeng.**"**


	6. VI

**VI.**

Hwoarang spent the rest of the day simply sitting, talking about this and that with Baek. On the previous occasions Hwoarang had injured himself, he had been well enough to look after himself and as such, Baek had seen fit to let him run through stretches of his own while he continued their regime without the younger Korean. However this injury was the most severe to date, and whilst Baek would not skip training himself, he decided to relent for the time being and spend the rest of the day alongside his pupil.

Hwoarang had felt the whole affair was quite pleasant, and his initial feelings of anger over his rash mistake subsided in the company of his Master. They had not spent much time together like this before, and whilst Baek as usual did not reveal much about himself, Hwoarang was glad to hear his stories and affairs during the time he had been away.

Hwoarang had even teased Baek concerning his new and improved motorcycle, something that bristled the older man upon mention, but caused him to relent with a smile and short laugh when Hwoarang got that dreamy look in his eye, the look he always gave when he was thinking about riding free on his bike.

It was early evening when Baek decided to leave Hwoarang to rest and resume his training.

"I have instructed Nomi to cook a quick meal for me, after that, she'll be free to tend to you as you need things." Baek stated, rising from the table.

He looked down at Hwoarang, "Remember what I have said."

Hwoarang grinned and nodded his assent. Baek cocked an eyebrow then shook his head. As he was about to leave, he turned to his pupil, just at the doorway, "Hwoarang, keep your eyes open, you may yet learn a thing or two these next few days, if you are observant and remember all I have said."

Hwoarang wasn't sure exactly what his Master meant aside from that he was clearly referring to Nomi. He shrugged it off.

It was a little while later that Hwoarang retired for the evening. He spent the day relaxing, being pampered by Nomi. The girl was quiet around him and for the meantime he was quiet in return, keen on just observing her for the time being, as Baek suggested. But what he was supposed to be looking for he couldn't say. All he saw was the same shy, bumbling plain girl he saw previously; he noticed that she had a very nice ass though.

* * *

He limped to bed, intent on sleeping the rest of the night away, the day hadn't been strenuous, but the sudden lull of activity had dulled him somewhat, and he was feeling sleepy. He didn't bother flicking on the light switch, intent on heading straight for the bed. He lay down gently, removing his shirt but not bothering to remove his pants.

The night was warm, so he didn't bother pulling back the covers before lying back and closing his eyes. He laid thinking for a moment. Now that he was alone in the dark he suddenly realised that he didn't feel very happy or contented. Though he had enjoyed his day spending time with his Master, he still felt doubts, mostly about himself.

Was he really so foolish? How could he have lost it the way he had? He was always so calm and collected in a fight, in fact it was the only time when he wasn't acting brash. Everything would always flow together in one long, fluid string of movement, for him to flounder like that wasn't like him at all. Even when being beaten by Devil Jin he had maintained his composure right to end when he thought for sure he was going to die. So what was wrong with him?

He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing deeply, feeling a slight sense of despair. He needed to get a grip; it was like Baek always reminded him: everyone failed sometimes, but it just wasn't _fair_. He had won fair and square, worked so hard to do it, so who did that freak Kazama think he was!?

Hwoarang shook himself, and decided to let his mind wander to more pleasant thoughts. He focused on his day with Baek, remembering his smiles and laughter, and how rare it was that he ever saw that side of his Master. It made him happy. In a way Baek was like a father to him, and Hwoarang found he had no trouble in admitting that. He'd never had a father so he couldn't say for sure what he had with Baek was like that, but he imagined that's what it was like, and it contented him enough to let him drift off to sleep.

* * *

It wasn't a pleasant sleep like Hwoarang had expected. He began to dream during the small hours of the evening. He dreamt about the day when he had heard Baek had been attacked and 'killed' by Ogre, he remembered his feelings of shock, anguish and fear.

In his dream he was in a dark cavern, black shadows laced the air, which chilled him to the bone, but Hwoarang found he was sweating and his limbs felt like they were wrapped in cotton. At first he couldn't see, but he could hear noises. Somewhere in the distance he could hear horrific roaring and sounds of agony. At first the sounds were blurred, and it took him sometime to recognise that the cries were Baek's.

This realisation caused Hwoarang to scream out, but he couldn't hear his own voice, his vision wavered between oppressive darkness and filtered shapes of greys and mauves. He could just make out two figures, the large hulking form of the individual he recognised as Ogre, and a much smaller figure lying at his feet: his Master, Baek.

Hwoarang began to struggle against his invisible restraints, screaming his Master's name, desperate to reach out to him, to save him, but nothing he did could free him from his position. He was becoming frantic, his entire body shaking violently, his heart racing, sweat dampened his lose hair to his head, cheeks and neck; he felt tears forming in his eyes.

Suddenly he was free of his bondage. He gave a start, crashing to the ground, painfully landing on his arm. He gave a strangled cry, but quickly scrambled onto his feet, intent on reaching his Master before it was too late.

"Sabumnim!"

His voice was a choked whisper, but he could speak. He kept calling to his Master, stumbling along, unable to run, it felt like he was charging through water. It felt like he ran for an age, but he never came closer the vision of his fallen Master, he was so far away, and all the while he was screaming for him, begging him to wake up, to let him know everything was alright but he never got a response.

The figure of Ogre then turned to Hwoarang, and his gaze caused the young Korean to freeze on the spot, the beast was upon him in an instant, a low menacing rumble filling the buzzing air. Hwoarang heard the monster's words as clear as day, reverberating inside his head and inside the cave walls.

_"Your Master is dead."_

"NO!"

Hwoarang refused to believe it, but all the same, his heart was pierced by the cold stab of anguish, and he came to the realisation that the monster was not lying to him. He was gone, dead, and there was nothing Hwoarang could have done to help him.

"No…"

His voice was barely a whisper, his body felt weak, his heart about to break. He sunk to his knees, crying. His weeping was gentle at first, but it became harder and more hysteric as his loss crashed over him. Baek was gone, he was all alone, and he was lost. He didn't want to be alone again; he didn't want to go back to that old life of aimless wandering, starving on the streets running from his pain and fears. What was he going to do? What could he do now?

Hwoarang felt a hand coil around his throat. He looked up to see Ogre standing above him, but he was shrouded in darkness now, hidden from Hwoarang's sight. He began to choke the young Korean and he could feel the cold hand of death spreading from the monster's iron grip seep into his pores.

He felt his very essence scream in agony at the intrusion. Something was spreading inside him, cold, dark and evil. It was corrupting his thoughts, he felt the hot flush of rage surge through him, and felt the incredible power seeping from the monster's tight hand into his very heart.

He was being lulled into unconsciousness; a sudden feeling was overtaking him. He felt dark power fill his limbs, his strength increasing. It felt good, and at the back of his mind Hwoarang could hear a gentle whisper lulling him into confidence_, "This was what you've always wanted isn't it? Strength, power. You want to beat your opponents and be the very best don't you? You want to defeat Kazama and make him beg for mercy at your feet, no?"_

Yes…yes he wanted that so badly it almost hurt. What else did he have, now that Baek was gone?

A brief image of his Master flashed before his eyes. He wanted his Master to be proud of him; he wanted so much to get stronger, to do him proud. But he'd failed yet again, his Master was dead and Hwoarang couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. If only he were stronger, he could have done something_…_

_"You can be stronger Hwoarang,"_ the voice whispered, _"You can have all the strength in the world, just let it wash over you, just listen and you can have it all."_

Hwoarang closed his eyes, suddenly feeling numb, but lulled and dreamy. _Yeah…I want this, I want this so bad…_

He saw in his mind's eye his defeat at Devil Jin's hand; saw himself lying broken and battered on the ground at his feet. He felt rage course through his body again.

How dare he!? Never again, he'd come back, and he'd mop the floor with that simpering demon freak's face. He'd punish him for humiliating him like he had, he'd tear him _limb from limb…_

An image of Jin's demonic face came to Hwoarang's mind then. The eyes were cold and cruel, an evil sneer plastered on his face; the face frightened Hwoarang with its malice, and he suddenly didn't want this any longer. He didn't want to be like that monster, didn't want to be some freakish devil wreaking havoc and destruction wherever he went. He wanted to be strong, sure of himself, capable of taking anything on, but not like this. Baek wouldn't have wanted this.

"NO!"

Hwoarang's eyes snapped wide open. "I don't want to be like _him_! I'm not like _him_! No!"

He began struggling, but the monster's grip was too tight, its hold inside Hwoarang's body too deep; he could feel his very personhood eroding away as he struggled.

He started to panic, "No! Never. Let go, I don't want this! No!"

His struggling was growing weak, his vision was blurring again, "Please Sabumnim, please help me, I don't wanna die…" He felt his life drip away, his voice wavered.

"Please…"

* * *

He woke with a start, gasping and sweating profusely. He snapped up in bed, partly dreaming still, his hands reaching for his throat only to find that the hand of the monster was no longer there. His heart was racing, his hands trembling; he hadn't dreamt like that in a long time.

"Just a stupid dream…" He breathed, clutching his face in his hand.

He sat in silence for a while, gathering his wits, calming his frantic heart. Just a dream, Baek was fine, he was fine; he wasn't like that freak Kazama, not at all. He'd beat him fair and square one day, he knew.

That's why he was here after all.

"Hwoarang?"

A small voice from the hallway. He looked up; it was Nomi.

She was standing by his bedroom door which he had left slightly ajar without realising. He could just make her out in the dim light of the hallway lamp.

"Are you alright? I heard noises."

Hwoarang waved his hand. "I'm fine, just a dream. It's too fuckin' hot…"

She was silent for a while, then, "Do you need anything?"

Hwoarang thought for a moment.

"Come here." He ordered.

She was hesitant at first, but then she slowly slid the door open and came inside. She was wearing a thin white nightdress, modest enough, but it was a little tight around her hips. Hwoarang watched her intently in the dim light, finding her presence slightly soothing.

"Close the door." He directed. She froze.

"W-what-" she started, Hwoarang cut her off, "I'm not going to do anything to you, just do it and come here."

Was he really thinking this through? It was true, at that time he wasn't going to do anything to her, though he suspected he would want to, so what was he thinking…

She did as she was asked; all the while she was as silent and bashful as could be. She approached him slowly, Hwoarang kept his gaze fixed on her body, she stood in front of him, her hands clasped neatly together in front her, formal, reserved. They were silent for a while. Hwoarang simply sat on the bed, observing her, while Nomi kept her eyes downcast, posture rigid.

He could hear her faint, hitched breathing in the silence. For a moment he considered that what he was doing was wrong. He was completely ignoring his Master's wishes by calling the girl here, but he suddenly felt very restless.

He didn't want to admit that the dream had upset him, normally when something bothered him he'd take it out in the dojang or on some unsuspecting lug in a street fight, when that wasn't possible, his next solution was the soft embrace of a woman.

Perhaps he should have sent her away and simply bore through his anxiety, but he felt mixed up inside, confused, and he wanted to feel the excitement of rebellion again, to make him forget. He reached out and took the girl's hand. She froze at his touch, but as he pulled her arm away she relented. He pulled her down to him onto the bed, all the while she was unyielding and quiet, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hwoarang…this is wrong…" She muttered, whimpering a little as he pulled her onto his lap, his hands grabbing hold of her hips.

"I don't care." He whispered back, already his hands where caressing her through her nightdress.

"This…this…I've never done this before…" She breathed; her body still rigid.

Hwoarang leaned into her, intent on just shutting her up, "I won't fuck you if that's what you're worried about."

She gave a squeak; she was kind of cute (or was that just the moment influencing his judgement?) He regretted saying that, he really did want to, but he had to settle. Obviously if he pushed too hard too soon she would freak, Baek would find out, and who knows what would happen then. He'd have to break her in, relax her.

If Hwoarang had have realised at the time just how bad he was that he was devising these thoughts yet still consciously ignoring Baek's orders he would have stopped himself and sent the girl on her way, but at things were, he only cared about getting what he wanted.

He ran his hands under the hem of her nightdress, caressing the soft skin of her thighs, she was breathing rapidly, pulling away from him slightly. He used one hand to pull her close to him until she was forced against him; her arms pressed against the bare skin of his chest and letting the other hand wander further up her thigh. She gave a small moan, breathing into Hwoarang's neck. The sensation excited him further; he gripped her harder, feeling his stomach tighten. He slipped his hand through her underwear to get a better feel of her rear; she gave a cry, "Please Hwoarang, this is too sudden…" He smiled a little.

"Are you scared I'm going to use you?" He asked, groping her hard.

She whimpered. Of course he was using her, but she didn't need to know that.

"Yes…" her response was barely audible; she was shaking violently.

"Don't be," he stated, hooking her underwear with his thumb, tugging at them.

"How can I not, I don't even know you." She exclaimed, trying to pull away from him.

"Do you want to know me?" Hwoarang asked, suddenly gripping the girl by the hips and pushing her off. The movement startled her for a moment, and Hwoarang seen a small glimpse of relief in her features.

She righted herself, looking at him from where she knelt between his legs, her hands wrapped around herself, "Yes." She murmured.

Hwoarang sighed inwardly, "You will." He stated.

He suddenly reached out, sliding both hands up the sides of her thighs and gripped her panties on either side, neatly pulling them off of her.

The girl gave a loud cry, "No!-"

Hwoarang quickly pulled her into himself, kneeling up on his knees and pressing his hand to her mouth, "SSSSH! Look, don't worry, I'm not gunna hurt you, I won't do anything heavy, I just want you."

She was silent. In the dark Hwoarang could just about see a fearful look on her face, "Come on, let's have a little fun, I promise I'll be gentle, I'll make you feel good," he was sliding his hands up her bare arms, "I'm not going to think badly of you if you want this you know."

He ran his hands down her chest; she gave a small gasp, "Don't worry, Baek won't find out," he finished, very gently groping her breasts through her nightdress. She moaned a little, trembling at his touch.

"I'm not ready for this," she cried, clamping her eyes shut; Hwoarang could see the redness of her face in the dark, "I've never even kissed a boy before." She admitted.

Hwoarang was feeling a little irritated now: seriously, how long would it take for this girl to just shut up? He sighed inwardly again, and then smiled a reassuring smile, gripping the girls' chin in his hand and tilting her head up to him.

"Well now you will." He pressed his lips against hers.

The girl went straight as a board against him, a mumbled cry escaping her, Hwoarang pressed onward, ignoring her protests, he pulled her closer to him and began kissing her fiercely, pressing his tongue into her mouth.

The girl relaxed a little, moaning slightly, her defences weakening against the redhead's skilled tongue. Hwoarang started feeling her up again, running his hands down her sides, her waist, her hips and rear, before sliding a hand deftly up her nightdress, between her legs.

Here the girl gave a cry against his hot mouth, trying to pull away, but Hwoarang pulled her back into him. He released her mouth and leaned into her ear, wrapping his free arm around her waist, "You'll like it, I promise." He whispered deviously.

This seemed to be enough to calm the girl, so Hwoarang proceeded to sit back in a more comfortable position, pulling the girl down onto his lap, parting her legs with the hand that was currently resting at the innermost part of her thigh.

He held her pressed against his chest, one hand planted firmly on her back, causing her rear to jut out. She was trembling again, so Hwoarang started kissing the skin of her neck, inhaling the scent of flowers in her hair. He teased her thigh for a moment, before drawing his hand between her legs, resting a finger on the small mould of flesh between her folds. A small cry from the girl, a slight struggle, Hwoarang started licking her neck, stroking her; she was trying so hard to keep quiet as he teased her for a while. He worked her up slowly at first, then plunged his fingers inside of her; she was thoroughly wet against his fingers.

Hwoarang gave a growl at the feel of her warmth against his fingers, longing so much to be inside her, but he knew he couldn't, he'd have to get his pleasure via other means tonight. He continued playing with the girl, kissing her neck and lips, building up a strong rhythm inside her body, relishing the feel of her flushed skin against his.

Eventually he brought the girl to climax, she gripped his shoulders in her hands, her back arching and the walls of her sex clenching tighter against his capable fingers. She gave a long, gentle groan, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Hwoarang watched her all the while, drinking in the sight, his own arousal close to breaking point.

He gave her a moment to recover after she came down, shaking and breathing hard against him. He absentmindedly stroked her hair, pulling his fingers out of her gently.

"Oh…Hwoarang…"

He gave a start, a frown on his face. He didn't want her to call him by that name. Sure, around the house she had, but not here, not like this. While within his Master's presence Hwoarang tolerated being called by that name, elsewhere he never wanted to be referred as such by anyone except his Master. It was_ his_ name, given to him by Baek all those years ago. A name Baek had deemed worthy for the young Korean to have, a name to live up to, it was a special thing, a gift from his Master that he cherished.

When other people besides Baek used that name for him, it made him angry. They didn't know what it meant, they didn't understand why Baek gave him the name he did and why Hwoarang had needed a name to begin with, it was his connection to his Master, so who else had the right?

"Don't call me that," he hissed, suddenly pulling the girl off him to look her dead in the eye, "Don't ever call me by that name when my Master isn't around. Never."

The girl looked startled, bemused, "Why…what's wrong?" She breathed.

Hwoarang's frown deepened, "It's none of your business!"

The girl wilted before him, looking hurt and confused. "I'm sorry…" she bowed her head.

They were silent for a moment, before Hwoarang remembered the reason he had brought the girl to his bed, his anger having killed his arousal, "Look, forget about it, I didn't mean to snap, let's get back to what we were doing." He smirked.

The girl was silent still.

"Now I want you to do something for me."

He was oblivious to the girl's distress for the rest of night.


	7. VII

**VII.**

Hwoarang sent the girl back to her room shortly after finishing with her. He had promised not to sleep with her, and he hadn't, but made sure he was satisfied that night. It wasn't much, by his standards it was below mediocre, but he had figured it would be as such since the girl was so inexperienced. All the same, he had immensely enjoyed 'teaching' the girl a thing or two, even though it had taken an age for her to get the job done; he had made up his mind to pursue the girl further in the coming days.

The next few days where long and lazy. For lack of anything better to do, Hwoarang spent time 'getting to know' the girl with the hopes that she would relent to his advances and sleep with him. Among other things, he learnt that the girl was originally from England, but came to South Korea to look after a family friend, who had turned out to be the old mother of a skilled Tae-kwon-do instructor who taught Nomi's older sister, who was also in Korea improving her techniques. (Hwoarang found himself wondering about this interesting older sister)

Nomi said she had landed working for Baek whilst scouting for dojangs for her sister to try out (whether her sister had visited their dojang she did not say) Nomi herself did not practice Tae-kwon-do, but it explained why she knew a little about it. He hadn't paid much attention to anything else the girl told him, but learned that she was nineteen years old, enjoyed comedy and liked cats a lot. Overall, she bored him.

He realised that the first night's endeavour had left him more frustrated than he was previously. He noted with disdain that it was indeed foolish to have gone through with it to begin with, but he shrugged it off despite feeling guilt over going behind his Master's back.

The girl had been even shyer around him, bashful and going red very easily. Hwoarang would frequently make mention of their night together in hushed whispers and gentle caresses. This caused the girl much embarrassment, but for the most part, the girl kept up appearances.

However, there were clues everywhere that something had changed between them, all revealed by Nomi. Hwoarang as usual, did not notice, but he _did_ notice the intent looks Baek cast him often during the following week; Hwoarang realised that his Master knew something had happened and it put the younger Korean on edge.

Baek however, made no mention of his suspicions to Hwoarang and the younger man relaxed a little. He had continued pursuing the girl at night, inviting her to his room in the early hours of the morning. For the first three days after their initial encounter, she did not show.

Hwoarang suspected she was feeling ashamed of herself, and guilty for going against Baek's wishes. But Hwoarang won her over eventually with a little sweet talk, even promising to take her out for dinner or something once his training was over. Whatever it took.

On the fourth and final day of Hwoarang's resting, the girl visited him. Neither time resulted in what he was after, but he did have some relief, and he felt by the end of it that the girl was finally on her way to letting him into her bed fully. He assumed she had taken the first three days as a chance to mull over what she wanted and had concluded she had wanted him in return. These two nights were the last of it, however, as Baek believed Hwoarang's injury had subsided enough for him to return to the dojang for training, despite the odd twinge on occasion.

* * *

After resuming his training Hwoarang seen very little of Nomi. He was much too tired at the end of each day to bother with her, and his mind had been pulled back into its previous framework. The months went by quickly and soon enough the anticipation of the coming tournament had gripped Hwoarang tightly. He was pushing himself harder than he ever had before; even spending long nights alone in the dojang long after Baek saw fit to retire for the night.

He was exhausted, but determined, knowing he'd be facing off against Kazama again and who knew what else, considering the world had been in chaos since Jin had taken the head of the Mishima Zaibatsu and declared war on the world.

Hwoarang began thinking about the state of things as they were currently. While things were relatively calm in parts, others where in disarray. Korea hadn't seen many problems, which was mainly why Hwoarang hadn't felt the need to rush after Kazama after waking in the hospital several months back. He had spent a little time consorting with resistance groups during his month away from training, but he reckoned he could get more done training in preparation for the tournament; he knew he'd face off against Kazama for sure and stood a better chance than anyone else (something he took pride in, of course). He hadn't thought about what he'd do if he'd won however. He didn't care for owning anything that belonged to that freak, he just wanted to win. Hwoarang was unable to see further beyond this point, but at that moment it wasn't important.

* * *

It was late into the night a week before the tournament when Hwoarang last saw the girl. It was their final night before setting off to Japan. Hwoarang again had stayed behind, continuing to practice every possible move and scenario he could think of, his rival's face in his mind's eye. He was beginning to feel anxious, like he just knew something bad was going to happen, but what it was he could not tell.

He found himself wondering again and again about his nightmare all those months ago, what it meant, if anything. He didn't feel as psyched up as he thought he would either, but felt relatively calm, though there was a feeling of apprehension in the air. Lately, Baek had seemed tense and drawn back, and Hwoarang had noticed that his Master wasn't as spry as he used to be, something that had worried him, yet he had refrained from mentioning it, knowing Baek would say nothing.

He lay flat on the floor on his back, panting for breath, finally succumbing to his exhaustion. The night was hot, cicadas chirping outside the only sound Hwoarang could hear besides his ragged breathing. He rubbed the sweat from his face, his eyes closed, mustering the strength to get up. Just as he rose he heard the far door slide open behind him and gentle footsteps approaching. He glanced over his shoulder to see Nomi approaching, looking downcast. He said nothing.

"Baek would like to see you." She stated.

Hwoarang looked at her, still breathing hard, "What's it about?"

She shook her head, "He wouldn't say, but it's important. He's sat up tonight waiting for you."

Hwoarang gave a look; Baek never stayed up late, he was always adamant on a good night's rest. The girl must have caught onto Hwoarang's surprise as she spoke again.

"He's anxious about something; he has been for a while now."

Hwoarang cast a furtive glance at Nomi, "And how would you know?" He demanded.

The girl cast her eyes down, by now used to this behaviour, "We talk a lot," she wasn't looking at him, "He hasn't said anything specifically, but I can just tell when I look at him or hear the way he speaks…there's something he wants off his chest, I think."

Hwoarang frowned at the girl and again she looked away.

"I'm sorry if I've upset you." She bowed a little.

Hwoarang snorted, "What would a little girl like you know about my Master? Seriously."

He stood up, missing the expression of hurt on the girl's face. He gave her a stern look, hands on hips, staring her down.

"You don't know anything. You're just the housemaid. Baek only hired you to clean up after us. You don't know _anything_."

Nomi was fidgeting with her dress, "Why are you being so nasty? I haven't done anything wrong." She was looking at him with wide eyes.

Hwoarang stared back at her, irritated, "Nah, you haven't have you?" He waved her off, "That's why I think you're full of it. You think you know anything about my Master and who he is? I don't even know that kind of thing!"

Hwoarang was not sure what had caused his sudden outburst, but he realised he felt very angry, let down even. There was no way this girl, this _nobody_ who'd only been in Baek's life for the past year as an employee knew anything about him that Hwoarang didn't know. The thought was just…

"Hwoarang I just wanted you to know as well that I really-"

He cut the girl off. If he hadn't have been so distracted, had have been paying attention, he would have noticed the aching look on Nomi's face. Would have seen her bared open before him and he would have known what she wanted to say, but instead, he had the fabric at the front of her dress gripped tightly in his hand, his face twisted in a snarl, not seeing any part of her, not a single part.

He pulled the girl to his face and looked her in the eyes, "DON'T call me that! Don't EVER call me that!"

He let her go, pushing her away. Nomi stumbled back. She was quiet, her face twisted in pain. She had her arms wrapped around herself, mouse brown hair covering her face.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry…" She muttered over and over.

Hwoarang smacked his thighs with his hands, growling a little, "Geez why do you have to be so spineless? It really pisses me off sometimes!" The girl was quiet, trembling.

"It…doesn't matter then. Sorry to have bothered you." She whispered, leaving suddenly.

The door slid closed behind her, leaving Hwoarang alone in silence again. He gave a hiss of annoyance. What was that stupid girl's problem anyway? She really did piss him off sometimes. He shook himself, trying to forget his irritation, and went off looking for Baek.

* * *

He found his Master in the study. The room was lit only by a single lamp, everything was neat, orderly and the air was quiet, slightly tense. Baek was sitting at the table, his back to the door, a pot of tea and a cup before him.

"Sabumnim."

Baek turned, giving Hwoarang a look of acknowledgement as his student bowed.

"Sit." He ordered; Hwoarang did so.

"The girl told me you wanted to see me?" Hwoarang sat himself across from Baek.

"_The girl_ has a name hak-saeng." Baek replied; his voice had a warning tone to it.

Hwoarang arched a brow at him, "Is something wrong? I call her that all the time."

Baek gave a sigh, "This is why I've called you here, Hwoarang." He stated, not looking at him.

Hwoarang felt a weight drop in his stomach, so Baek had found out? Ooooh great. That stupid girl probably gave it all away…

"I've been concerned about your heedless attitude toward my teachings Hwoarang. I've done all I could to show you sense but there is only so much I can do. I should not have to spell anything out, and while you've been excellent in execution and improvement in the physical side of things, you've fallen by the wayside in regards to the improvement of your own self. I hate to say it, but I am not sure you are truly ready for what lies ahead hak-saeng."

Hwoarang blanched, "What…what do you mean Sabumnim?" He asked.

Baek remained silent, thoughtful for a time, "What I mean Hwoarang is that you are still not truly seeing things as you should. While on the surface you appear to understand things, deep down you understand nothing at all, not even yourself. That time in the hospital, you were truly open to me. I was seeing the real you and I could see all your wants and desires, all your fears and hopes, but after that day hak-saeng, you shut yourself off again, you felt shame and anger over something that you considered a weakness, you ran from it, and while you felt you had handled it, I could still see just under the surface, that you had changed somehow, you have become more determined to shut yourself off and I am worried about that fact."

Hwoarang was silent, thoughtful, what was his Master getting at? What had he done so wrong?

"I…don't follow you."

Baek closed his eyes, "Do you remember, a few weeks back, when we took the day to rest, and you spent the day with Nomi? You took her to a nearby ice cream parlour. I took a walk at the time, and I caught you two together outside. I saw so clearly your intention written on your face and in your body language, I knew then that you had no caring or consideration for the girl and all the while she sat there, baring her all to you, enraptured by your every word and movement. Hak-saeng, I think the girl has feelings for you, but I bet you did not notice that at all did you?"

Baek finally looked at Hwoarang; the younger man was quiet.

"N-No I mean, come on? As if! She would have told me you know? I've had girls say that to me before, I think I would know Sabumnim."

Hwoarang grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

Baek's eyes narrowed, "This is what I mean hak-saeng, about seeing things that appear hidden. This is what I want you to be aware of. Do not think I have called you here to lecture you about the girl because I have not, I called you here to try and make you realise something I have been trying to teach you for a year now. You need to _listen_. You need to _see_."

Baek's voice had risen and the change disturbed Hwoarang slightly.

"What is it you want me to see? What am I to listen to? I really don't know what you're trying to say Sabumnim." Hwoarang exclaimed, starting to feel annoyed.

Baek gave a sigh, "You are only concerned with doing and saying whatever it is you want to say and do. With the exception of me, for all others you pay little attention, you have no concern for others or for what your interaction with them can teach you. I do not feel you learnt anything from your defeat at the hands of Jin Kazama or that you even truly know anything about him, only that you wish to defeat him and see him lain before you, but perhaps there is something in him that you could gain if you only set aside your pride."

Hwoarang was stunned; Baek never mentioned Jin. His Master turned to him, and gave him a look.

"Tell me, what do you know about your rival? What can you tell me about Jin Kazama?"

Hwoarang faltered, "W-what can I tell you?"

He was quick to answer, "He's a monster."

"And?" Baek asked; Hwoarang arched a brow, "He's stuck up."

"And?"

"He's pretty much a zombie, never gets mad."

"And?"

"Uh…he really hates his father."

"And?"

"Eh…he probably likes that girl, what's-her-face…Xiaoyu, but he's too much of a coward to say."

"And?"

"Seriously!?"

Hwoarang was looking at Baek with confusion, not sure what he was getting at, "What else do I need to say?" he asked.

Baek couldn't help but smile a little, "So much you don't know, so much you can't see."

Hwoarang just gave him a look; Baek groaned.

"Jin is a quiet, controlled individual. He is not concerned about winning, he is only concerned about putting an end to the Mishima bloodline, for it does nothing but bring misery and suffering to its members and to others. He is a tragic individual, and despite his cool head he has a lot of pent up rage, fear and sadness. He mourns his mother, who taught him compassion, he is humble and merciful, kind but misguided in some ways. He remains distant from others, so that he can't hurt them, though it hurts him even more to do so. He does not like possessing the Devil gene and sees its power as something he would rather be without, and this war is nothing but his attempt at finally destroying a long living evil. Owning the Mishima Zaibatsu has put him in the best position to finally achieve this end."

Baek finished, taking a sip of his tea. Hwoarang's jaw was open.

"Sabumnim, how do you-" He started, and Baek sat his tea down.

"Hwoarang, like I said, you need to be aware and open to those things not outwardly said or shown. Jin is a complex individual, and while I am simply speculating on several of the things I have said, there are other things I have said that are true, and these facts I learned through clear observation."

Baek gave a knowing look at Hwoarang, "There are many things you can learn from him, if you are open to seeing them."

For some reason this reminded Hwoarang of Jin's indifference to the Korean's victory over him before his transformation.

"I see…" Hwoarang admitted; he felt very foolish.

"Now, what do you think of your rival? Think back, what can you see now in your mind that you missed before?" Baek continued.

Hwoarang thought for a moment. He thought back to when he had first met Jin back on the streets, goaded him into a fight, and came to a draw. His pride had taken such a blow. He had never lost or drawn to anyone before; it wasn't something he wanted to experience again, not then and not now either.

He thought back, saw his gang and various spectators gathered round, shouting his name and words of encouragement, saw himself, standing cool and proud, boasting before the Japanese man with a wicked grin and a sneer. He remembered calling him a momma's boy who ought to go back home, Jin's slight look of annoyance at the comment.

Hwoarang remembered the nonchalant way in which Jin had engaged him, how they came to blows but could never best each other, he remembered that Jin had given him a smile and a commendation, said it was fun, but all the while Hwoarang was seething inside, humiliated amidst the shocked gasps and cries of his posse. He had never been angrier.

Now that he could think back and remember it, he saw the things that Baek said then in Jin. He saw that Jin didn't seem happy, was serious, but he could see in his mind's eye how that melted away when he fought Hwoarang, how he smiled, how he enjoyed it.

When he cast his mind to further interactions with his rival, he saw the respect Jin had for him, the small acknowledgments, such as when he had relented and fought him after the fourth tournament, helped him escape the military.

Hwoarang remembered finding Jin alone in the old warehouse, pursued, how the redhead helped him out. Hwoarang knew that over time he had come to respect and even like Jin, but his lack of caring bothered the Korean, and then his defeat and near death at the hands of Devil Jin had filled him with anger once again.

He saw all these things clearly now, and thought back to Jin's quiet sighs, forlorn looks into space, stiff body language and noted that Baek was right about his character. Hwoarang had great difficulty in getting Jin's attention more often than not, and he never understood why. It was something that caused a great deal of frustration for the young Korean, who always got the attention of whomever it was he wanted it from.

He had always wondered about Jin's stuck up attitude followed by sudden shows of friendly competition and good humour, behaviours that previously did nothing but confuse him; now he understood.

"I…never thought." He whispered, looking down and shaking his head.

Baek gave a nod. "Good work hak-saeng. Do you understand why I've asked you to think about all this? About Jin in particular and the lesson you can take from all of this?"

Hwoarang nodded slowly, "I believe I do Sabumnim, though finding the words for it is difficult."

It was true, Hwoarang could not put into words what it was he felt and realised right then. What was he to do? He still wanted to fight Jin, Devil or not, but what then? What would he say or do? But with all that was going on in the world, would he even get the chance? What was to say Jin simply hadn't lost it completely and was beyond saving now? Suddenly there was more to think about in future than just simply winning. Hwoarang sighed.

There was silence between master and pupil. A hush born from the knowledge that whatever happened over the next few weeks would result in a lot more than just one winner and many losers. Hwoarang looked at Baek and through the warm silence he really looked at his Master.

Perhaps Baek knew Hwoarang was looking his way, but he did not show it. His head was down, look thoughtful. Hwoarang really tried to look at him, tried to see whatever it was he felt was there that he wasn't getting, something that perhaps Baek wanted him to see. Hwoarang saw the bright eyes dimmed in thought, a slight frown at his mouth, brows furrowed.

Hwoarang suddenly saw how tired Baek looked. He saw exhaustion in his Master's face, both physical and mental. There were traces of other things there, but what were they? Sadness? Regret? Hwoarang could barely bring himself to ask, to know for sure, but there was a feeling, a thought, like there was something else that Baek wanted to say but would not say unless asked. Was all this just a rouse to make Hwoarang take more notice of him? If so why?

Hwoarang had never really stopped to think about what Baek felt toward him. He knew initially their relationship was based on concern for him. All those years ago, when Hwoarang was nothing but a scrappy street rat with a talent for fighting, he assumed Baek was simply interested in honing his skills, but what about after? Hwoarang had driven the man batty on more than a few occasions when he was younger; did he simply tolerate him then? Was he only used to Hwoarang's presence, did it go beyond that? Was he just friendly and formal or something else? Was all this just to teach him Tae-kwon-do, or was it out of concern for him? What…

"Is there something you want to say to me, hak-saeng?"

Hwoarang gave a start; Baek was still not looking at him.

"How did you know I was going to say something?"

"You're fidgeting."

Hwoarang noted that one of his hands had been tapping off the side of the table rapidly.

"Damn, you're good!"

Baek gave a smile.

They fell into silence again, then "I feel like there is something you want to say to me Sabumnim," Hwoarang began, "I just get the feeling that there is more to why I'm here than this."

Baek nodded.

"You're learning, it seems." He said it, and there was a hint of tenderness in his voice that Hwoarang was concerned for.

Baek turned to his student, looking at him with set eyes. That knowing look was present, but it was not one that made Hwoarang feel scrutinised this time. Rather, it was the look of someone sharing a great secret with someone whom they knew, finally, that they could trust to reveal it to.

"I have made a mess of my life Hwoarang. I have done things that I will regret to the day I die, things that will haunt me forever, even though I have come to be at peace with some of them. But all the time, I am worried for you, because in you I see myself. I see all the mistakes you could make that will cause you nothing but pain and I long so much for you to not tread down that path. I love you dearly hak-saeng, you are a son to me in many ways, I want nothing more than for you to be happy and not to falter in the same ways I did. If I am hard on you, it's only for that reason, please don't ignore or forget anything that I teach you, please do all you can to heed my words tonight and all times, because they'll make your life so much easier and put this old man's heart at rest."

Baek looked away and gave a tired sigh, but it wasn't pained this time.

Hwoarang did not really know what to say, in truth he was stunned, completely taken aback by his Master's openness to him. He suddenly felt incredibly guilty. He thought of all those times he had disobeyed him, intentionally annoyed him in some ways, all just for fun.

He saw Nomi flash in his minds eyes and gave a groan.

"Sabumnim I don't really know what to say I…feel terrible now."

Baek clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I don't expect you to say anything Hwoarang, just listen to me now and remember everything I have said. I will not be here with you always, so please look out for yourself. Don't go charging down whatever path you think you should be going down because your feelings are all that's guiding you. Please always keep your mind and heart open, please always stop and listen and please always do what you can to make the right choice."

Hwoarang nodded, remaining silent. For a while Baek did not say anything so Hwoarang took the opportunity to address his guilt.

"I've been…seeing Nomi." He stated, voice small.

Baek nodded; Hwoarang had expected a reaction, but there was none.

"I am aware." He said simply.

Hwoarang bit his lip, "I'm sorry."

Baek looked at Hwoarang and the younger man winced upon seeing it was a hard look, "Be kind to her Hwoarang, you don't know what sort of damage you will cause if you are not."


	8. VIII

**VIII.**

All he could remember was screaming as he watched his Master collapse, he couldn't figure out how or why it had happened, but he was beside his Master, screaming his name, shaking him, begging him to wake up. This can't be happening; there was no way this could be happening. The fight was intense sure, but his Master was fine a minute ago, right up until that monster attempted one final attack, how had this happened!?

He refused to give up. His wasn't dead, he was just unconscious, and it's worn him out that's all. Hwoarang grabbed Baek by the arms, heaving the older man into his arms, cradling him as he rose, determined to get out of the hellish pit and away from that monster, back to safety, back to where his Master could recover…

But even when he got back to the relative safety of the nearest town, Baek didn't recover. Hwoarang refused to believe it, it didn't make sense, there was absolutely no way it was true. But it didn't matter how hard he fought with the doctors and nurses, didn't matter how many times he shook his Master's shoulders, beseeching him to wake up, didn't matter that Hwoarang told him over and over how much he needed him, how much he was sorry for letting his guard down in the pit, nothing woke Baek from his slumber; he was gone.

It had been a long time since Hwoarang had last cried. He hadn't even cried all those years ago when he initially thought he had lost Baek, back then he had a source to direct his grief, but as realisation overcame him, Hwoarang knew there was nothing he could direct his pain onto: he was the cause of Baek's death and the knowledge hit like a hard blow to the gut. His grief poured out, clinging to the front of Baek's dobok, Hwoarang let out a long, howling wail of anger and despair, sinking to the floor next to the bed where his Master lay silent, motionless.

He lay there on the floor crying by his Master's bed for some time. There was nothing inside of Hwoarang except regret and the pain of loss. He cried until he was sick, his head hurting almost as much as his heart. He was lost, alone, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to, and it was all his fault. His stupidity and lack of awareness had cost Baek his life. There wasn't even time to say goodbye, no final words that could have eased Hwoarang's aching heart, nothing at all.

He refused to leave Baek's side for the entirety of the night, he had not slept at all, and when the hospital personnel came to remove him, Hwoarang had fought them, even going as far as to break the arm of one of the doctors who tried to comfort him. It was only until exhaustion overwhelmed him finally that Hwoarang relented enough to let them take Baek away. The nurses ushered him to another place he could sleep, fetching him hot drinks and blankets. As much as Hwoarang did not want to sleep, he practically collapsed and fell into a deep and troubled slumber, with the final images of his Master in his mind's eye, collapsing lifeless before him.

* * *

Hwoarang's grief did not abate. He was filled with regret and guilt, blaming himself for Baek's death. The funeral was small. Excluding himself and Nomi, there were only a handful of people there, none of whom he knew. He was silent throughout the service, not looking at or interacting with anyone. The girl had taken Baek's death hard. Hwoarang had come back to South Korea with Baek and told her what had happened when she noted that Baek was not with him.

The girl had broken down, crying quietly in her hands. Hwoarang made no attempt to comfort her; for some reason her tears only made him angry. What did she care about his Master? She only worked for him, and even then only for a year, what did she have to be so sad about?

She had tried to take his hand after the service. Whether it was for her own comfort or for his, Hwoarang never knew, for he pushed her away.

"Don't touch me. Don't."

He left her standing alone in the graveyard, intent on just getting away from it all. He didn't come back to the house until late into the evening, drunk. The girl did not come to him.

* * *

For the next few weeks they did not speak or interact with one another. Nomi resumed her duties as normal, though she took her time, filling her days with pointless scrubbing of floors and fretting about the garden. She kept Baek's room and study firmly under lock and key, not wishing to disturb the rooms. Hwoarang barely left his room, when he did, he usually left for a bar and came home late after Nomi had retired for the evening. He had wanted to get up and leave, but there was the issue of Baek's last will and testament to sort, and while the proceedings were under way (taken care of by Nomi) Hwoarang had no choice but to loiter around.

He did not spare much thought to the girl. As far as he was concerned, she meant nothing. She was a nobody; she had no right to grieve. Her small attempts to interact with him were brushed aside with a quick wave and a short tempered 'fuck off' and she had altogether given up on trying to talk to him.

He busied himself in the dojang, though it pained him to do so. He took out his anger and frustration on various equipment to the extent that the girl realised he was causing a lot of damage and had tried to reason with him to stop destroying things. Hwoarang hated to admit that she was right, and while he informed her to 'just drop dead' he relented and retreated to his room, where he would mull over the previous week.

He tried to glean comfort from his victory over Jin, tried to feel better knowing that the war and chaos had abated, tried to feel better by bringing alcohol into his room, by going out and picking fights, but nothing worked. Sometimes he would disappear for days on end, only to return dishevelled and covered in various injuries. On all occasions Nomi would tend to his injuries and try to talk sense into him, but he would not listen, too far gone in his anguish to listen to her.

* * *

It was a day before the hearing of the will when Hwoarang cracked. He had been confined to the house after slashing open his leg fighting an armed opponent, his ability to walk was severely impaired and he had been bedridden for the past three days. With nothing to distract him from his thoughts, Hwoarang became restless, unable to stop thinking about Baek, guilt ravishing his mind. He'd torn up his room in a fit and by the time Nomi heard the commotion, Hwoarang had torn open the wound on his leg and was screaming in a mix of pain and rage.

The girl gave a loud gasp at the pandemonium that greeted her as she rushed to the Korean's room. Hwoarang was dishevelled, his shirt was ripped, hair wild and blood had soaked through most of his left pant leg, leaking to the floor in a stream. The room was worse for wear: his guitar broken on the floor, blinds torn down and holes in the wall were it had kicked in frenzy; the girl was shaken.

"Please, please calm down you're hurting yourself!"

She reached out to touch him on the shoulders from where he stood screaming. In a rage Hwoarang had swung his hand around to bat the girl off him, hitting her hard in the face. Nomi gave a yelp and fell back. For a moment there was nothing but stunned silence.

Hwoarang froze, hand still raised, Nomi on the floor, her hand to the side of her face. Slowly Hwoarang turned his head around to look at the girl; she was staring back with frightened, bewildered eyes; neither said anything.

She unsteadily stood up, her eyes on Hwoarang throughout. He could see the redness down the side of her face and he felt himself deflate. He honestly had not meant to hit her, he just wanted her to go away and leave him alone. His sense came back to him, and the pain of his leg snapped him back to the world. He gave a strangled gasp and fell onto his good knee, blood pooling on the floor at a faster pace.

"Please just let me help you…"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, she was beside him now, her hands on his shoulders. Her hair fell down beside his face and the scent of flowers dulled his senses a little; he just had to give up. She helped him stand then led him out of his room next door to her own room since it was closer than the bathroom.

This was the first time Hwoarang had been in the girl's room. He found it was simple, with a trace of perfume in the air, soft bed sheets and pale walls, stacks of books lined the walls and pictures of cats dotted the desk by the window; he felt oddly soothed by how delicate the room appeared, mirroring the girl in every way.

She returned with wet towels and bandages, carefully she began washing the wound clean and applying the bandage, all the while Hwoarang was looking at the bruising on her face, feeling completely spent and rotten.

"Please be careful. I know things are hard for you right now but take care of yourself."

The girl wasn't looking at him; Hwoarang remained silent. She left the room again and returned with a new pair of pants. He changed out of them without a word, sitting back down on her bed when he was finished. Once she had disposed of his bloodied pants, she came back and simply stood before him, looking him over intently. They were both silent for a time, before Nomi reached out and started fixing his hair.

The redhead had not expected this, didn't she hate him now? How could she be so affectionate after what he did? He remained silent however as she brushed strands away from his face and smoothed down others. Her touch was gentle, her skin soft when she brushed against his forehead; he suddenly found himself craving to be touched.

When she pulled away, he felt himself groan slightly, the girl noticed this, looked at him, expecting him to speak.

"Don't stop…" he breathed.

Tentatively, she reached out again, gently pressing her left hand against his face, caressing his cheek.

"Is this what you want?" She asked.

Hwoarang simply took hold of her hand, holding it firmly against his face, closing his eyes.

He realised that he desperately needed to have her at that moment. He felt such turmoil inside him, that he couldn't even direct the feeling in any way. He felt frenzied, desperate, clinging. He needed to feel her touch, have her body joined to his; he needed it so much he suddenly felt crazy.

"I need you…" he breathed, reaching out for her.

He tentatively brushed the bruising on her face, causing her to give a small moan of pain. Hwoarang ran his hand through her hair, pulling her head down and locking her lips with his in a passionate kiss. She gave no resistance, though her body was tense. Hwoarang devoured her mouth, pulling her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her body and feeling every bit of her through her clothes, his desperation mounting.

Nomi put up little resistance. Perhaps all she wanted was to comfort him in whatever way she possibly could, if he found comfort in her body, wasn't that fine? She was lost and confused like him, hurting like him, but she no longer existed as a person to him, she was just a vessel for all his pain and desire to unload onto, and while some small part of her had been realising this fact from the very beginning, she relented to his cravings, if only to sooth his aching heart, though it pained hers even more.

Hwoarang had her stripped naked in a matter of moments. He was not gentle, flinging the girl to the bed with a rough toss. He explored every inch of her bare skin. Biting her neck, groping her breasts, working her with rough, frantic touches to loosen her up for what he was about to do.

The girl moaned and writhed underneath him, flushed with fear and embarrassment, well aware of what he was intending to do, unsure if she really was truly ready for this, though she couldn't bring herself to refuse him.

He removed none of his own clothing, he pulled his pants down low enough to expose himself before pushing the girl's legs open wide enough to slip through. He held her tightly, gripping her thigh with one hand and her shoulder with the other, kissing her deeply, his tongue playing with hers as he entered her.

With one quick, rough motion, Hwoarang felt himself plunge into her warmth with a shiver down his spine, Nomi screamed against his mouth, her back arching in reaction to the pain.

Hwoarang did not waste time worrying about her hurt before thrusting inside of her, gripping her hips tightly in his hands. Nomi gave a pained sob, a hand covering her face, the other gripping the bed sheets tightly. It was agony, and Hwoarang's movements were relentless.

He was deep inside of her, filling every inch of her, but through the pain she was soothed by his constant, unwavering motions until she stilled under him and began moaning gently in pleasure. Her groans excited Hwoarang even more, causing him to cling to her tightly, moving inside her faster and harder.

Their frantic union did not last long. Soon enough in his desperation, Hwoarang came hard inside her. He gave a loud cry of pleasure, all of his thoughts draining out of him to leave him in the throes of mindless ecstasy. He collapsed on top of the girl, panting and sweaty, the sweet bliss of climax soothing his aching heart for a time. Nomi lay stunned and panting beneath him, aware of a dull ache between her legs as Hwoarang pulled out of her.

They were silent. Hwoarang pulled up his pants and lay down on the bed beside her, Nomi remained lying were she was for a time, breathless, dumbfounded.

It was a little time before she rose, leaving the bed to retrieve her clothes. Hwoarang watched her, noting that she moved stiffly, he turned away when she put a hand between her legs and drew up blood on her fingers.

"I'm sorry I hit you, I really didn't mean to."

Hwoarang found himself speaking. Nomi didn't turn around.

"It's fine, I know you didn't mean it."

Hwoarang watched her dress, admiring what little of her body he found appealing, he felt soothed, relaxed, but still the sadness crept up from his gut. He turned away from Nomi just as she cast him a glance, missing the girl's look of longing.

* * *

They spent the remaining days before the hearing of the will in each other's beds. They did not talk, only expressed themselves with their bodies. Hwoarang craved the distraction, and he found it difficult to keep away from Nomi for long. She never protested or made complaint when he did things to her that she genuinely felt uncomfortable with, simply accepted his need and let him have his way.

If Hwoarang had have been more aware, maybe he would have seen the pain he caused her, seen the unsure looks with soft eyes and whispered begging, registered what she meant when she caressed his face, ran a hand through his hair.

Perhaps he would have pulled away from her and dealt with his pain another way, but as it was, he registered nothing except his desire to escape.

* * *

The reading of the will was just to him and the girl alone, there was no one else Baek had seen fit to include. Hwoarang sat in stiff silence, the girl casting concerned glances at him as they sat before the solicitor.

"…to my pupil and son in spirit, I leave my home and the dojang, on the condition that he does not destroy or sell off the property to any unjust cause, they are his to do with as he pleases…"

Hwoarang was struggling to pay attention. Hearing words that Baek had written was like listening to a ghost. He felt himself trembling slightly in his seat, his fist clenching the fabric of his chaps tightly.

"To Nomi, who was a good friend to me as well as an excellent employee, I have nothing I can give you that I know you could make use of, except the good will of my pupil, Hwoarang, to allow you to remain as a resident under my property to serve it in whatever way you see fit…"

Hwoarang gritted his teeth and cast a glance over at the girl. It had confused him enough that she was included in the will at all, but he had not expected his Master to call on him to show hospitality to the girl; he had considered kicking her out when he finally got bored of having her around.

"…I also leave two sealed letters, one for Nomi and the other to be opened only after given clear instruction found in the letter addressed to her. It is my final wish for the two people I cared most for to fulfil these wishes of mine and in due time, carry on with their lives in a way that will lead them to happiness…"

She got a letter and he didn't? What kind of joke was this!?

The solicitor finished, producing all the documents for transferring the deeds as well as the two sealed letters. Hwoarang stood up.

"That's it? You're saying nothing was left behind for me? Not a single word?"

The solicitor looked abashed; adjusting his glasses slightly, "No sir, everything that's here is accounted for." Hwoarang snarled.

"Please, it's ok, I'm sure there is something here-"

The girl stood up, resting a hand on Hwoarang's shoulder, he shrugged it off.

"Oh shut up! He leaves you of all people a letter and forgets about me!? This is a fucking joke!"

He turned to leave the room.

"Hwoarang wait, there's still this other letter-"

He swung around to the girl, pressing her up against the wall with his hand at her chest, "I told you not to fucking say my name!"

Nomi gave a small gasp, grabbing at Hwoarang's arm with her small hands, trying to pry his hand away from her chest. The solicitor jumped up just then, intent on trying to separate the two, but before he took a step Hwoarang had released the girl and stormed off, ignoring her cries to come back.


	9. IX

**IX.**

The room was in complete darkness, the vodka bottle now close to empty. Hwoarang had remembered all these things, and despite knowing he was drunk at this point, he could still think so clearly. He felt tortured, sitting alone in the dark at the kitchen table. He considered finishing the rest of the alcohol off, but thought better of it when he realised no amount of alcohol would blank his mind without landing him in the hospital.

He got up to stand, but the hour of sitting made him shaky on his feet and he stumbled a little, forgetting about the broken glass at his feet. He gave a loud yelp as his right foot slammed down into several glass shards.

He fell back, knocking the chair over and causing the vodka bottle to join the glass on the floor with a crash. Hwoarang gave a cry of anger, landing on his backside painfully. For a moment quiet returned with the exception of Hwoarang's groans, his foot and rear end paining him. He was disorientated from the alcohol, so his attempt at getting up was slow and stupid.

It was at that moment Nomi reappeared in the doorway, the kitchen light was on in a flash, temporarily blinding Hwoarang who covered his eyes with a snarl.

"What are you doing!?"

Nomi rushed to him, housecoat billowing behind her. Hwoarang simply grumbled at her, "Glass."

Nomi knelt by his foot, looking the damage over.

"Come on, I'll help you into the living room, I'll bandage this up."

Hwoarang was silent as he permitted Nomi to help him onto his feet, taking some pleasure in how difficult it was for such a small woman to pull him off the floor. He hopped to the living room, arm around Nomi's shoulders. She was quiet all the way there, only telling him to sit at the table while she fetched gauze, wet cloth and bandages.

When Nomi returned Hwoarang noted with some humour that they were positioned the same way they were when their relationship had truly 'started', as it were. Hwoarang watched her as she examined his lacerated foot, inspecting the glass shards to see if they were safe to remove here and now.

"Nothing too serious, it'll hurt, but you won't need to go to the hospital." She said, not looking at him.

Hwoarang remained silent. She pulled his leg up to eye level, taking advantage of his flexibility to look better at the sole of his injured foot, and began pulling out the larger glass shards with her fingers. Hwoarang hissed a little, but remained complacent as she worked. She proceeded to use tweezers to pull out the smaller shards then washed his foot clean of blood.

She remained silent all the while, bandaging his foot carefully. She finally decided to speak, "This is the umpteenth time I've had to tend to your wounds due to your rash behaviour."

For some reason her voice was stronger, colder. Hwoarang smiled a little, "Yeah, I guess."

His head was starting to hurt. Nomi afforded a look at him, "You go straight to bed after this and when you wake up, let me see this so I can redress it."

She stood, gathering the remaining supplies and left for a moment. Hwoarang sat, mulling over her change in attitude. Perhaps she'd just had enough of him and wanted to be away from him. When she came back she extended her hand, not looking at him. Hwoarang took it gingerly, heaving himself up, Nomi remained expressionless.

"You feeling alright?" he ventured to ask.

She gave him a look, "None of your business."

Her voice with high pitched; she wasn't used to talking like this.

"Look…for what it's worth…I'm sorry, about earlier I mean."

She didn't respond.

"Hwoarang, don't pretend."

She let go of his hand and turned to leave. Hwoarang stood, that same feeling of anger rising in his stomach at the mention of his name, but it died quickly as she left him there; she had done it deliberately.

For some reason, Hwoarang found himself laughing. It started as an amused chuckle, but before long he was laughing uncontrollably, though he couldn't quite say why. It was probably the alcohol.

* * *

Hwoarang awoke in the late afternoon. The room was warm, sunlight streaming through the open blinds. He groaned in pain, his head throbbing in agony. It took him a moment to realise that he was lying on the living room floor, having fallen asleep next to the table.

He sighed heavily, struggling to get up without setting his head off. He stumbled out of the living room, intent on finding painkillers only to find Nomi holding them in the kitchen with a glass of water, clearly on her way to him; the mess from the previous night was tidied up.

"Good morning." She said, holding the drugs and water out.

Hwoarang took them without saying a word, all the while Nomi watched him. When he finished, he turned to the girl, who was standing stock still, hands folded in front of her, exactly the way she did when around Baek.

She tilted her head, "What are you going to do now then?"

Hwoarang was thoughtful, "I don't know."

She nodded, "This is your home, if you want me to leave then you can just say so and I will."

She wasn't looking at him.

Hwoarang shrugged, "He didn't want me to kick you out."

She glanced up at him, "I'll still go if that's what you want."

He _did_ want that. He just wanted to ditch the place and leave. It was too painful here, but yet he kept coming back here, let the silly girl continue to live here. He wanted to leave it behind yet he couldn't help but come back. How many times had he come back over the past few months? Three? Four? Why couldn't he stay away, what was still holding him here to all these painful memories?

"He left you a letter."

She said it suddenly, quickly, like she was concerned that the moment to speak would pass. She fidgeted in the back pocket of her jeans for a moment before producing a letter.

"I tried to give it to you after the hearing of the will once I had read my own letter, and again on the other occasions you came over, but you never stopped to let me speak or hand it to you."

She held it out. Hwoarang was still silent. He never _stopped…_

He snatched the letter from her, looking at it for a moment, stunned. He was not sure if he really even wanted to open it now. He had wanted this letter so badly and now he had it. He could have had it a lot sooner, if he had have just shut up and stopped for a moment. He felt anxious, almost as if he was scared of opening it. His mind was still cloudy though his headache was easing, with a quick motion he whipped the letter into the back pocket of his chaps, not saying a word.

"Whatever you want to do, just do it," The girl started quietly, "I…don't care anymore. I know why you come here and I know I can't talk to you, so just…do whatever it is you want to do and I'll just…go away."

Hwoarang looked at her for a moment, thinking about what she meant. He suddenly noticed that she looked to be in a great deal of pain. She looked as small and as lonely as she did the previous afternoon he observed her, and he was realising with a feeling of horror that he was starting to see the things Baek had told him about, things hidden from plain sight but clear to see to those who knew how to look. He felt sick again, his head throbbing harder than before.

"I feel…a little sick."

Hwoarang rubbed his face in his hands, not sure what he should say.

"Then go to bed. I tidied your room for you, in case you came back."

He looked at her again, she wasn't looking at him. She was biting her lower lip, he could see her trembling slightly, and he could tell she was cracking a little. Should he talk to her? What would he say: that he was sorry for fucking her over and using her when he got the whim? Sorry for not being there for her while she was grieving, even though his grief was worse and she had _no right_?

"Nomi…"

He fidgeted, stomach clenching. She looked at him with despondent eyes. Hwoarang faltered, but breathed deeply, "What was it you wanted to say to me…that night before I left for the tournament?"

For a moment she had no expression, but then her features melted into a grimace, her eyes shone a little with unshed tears, her lips parted but no sound came out, her head bent down. Hwoarang saw a hundred and one emotions pass by as he looked at her: shock, remembrance, pain, embarrassment, yearning. But the most prominent emotion of all, one he couldn't place, was when she afforded him a small glance.

It was a kind of softness in her eyes he couldn't read. She was going to speak, but the words wouldn't come and in the end she remained silent. Hwoarang looked away.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you then, I was just…strung out."

"Yeah, sure."

She turned away, heading back into the kitchen. Hwoarang remained where he was in the hallway, the silence oppressive. He wasn't sure he really wanted to follow her, but he thought again about all that Baek had said, and he went after her. He found that she had crossed through the kitchen and into the yard, where he could see her sitting by the porch, looking out into the yard in the warm afternoon sunlight. He came up behind her, standing still, not looking at her.

"What is it?"

Her voice was cracked, like she had been crying; Hwoarang fidgeted, "I…well, just know that I'm sorry. I've been a total asshole these last few months and, I'm sorry." He finished, feeling lame.

Nomi gave a small, pained laugh, "Sorry if I don't buy that, Hwoarang."

There she went again, saying his name. But this time it was like how it had been when they were making love the afternoon previous; he didn't mind, though he still felt an uncomfortable jolt.

"You…don't have to I guess."

Hwoarang rubbed the back of his head, Nomi remained quiet.

"I really fucked up this time."

She nodded slightly, "Yeah."

She looked up at him then before speaking again, "He wanted me to look after you, you know," she smiled, "He told me 'He can be difficult Nomi, and I am worried that he'll hurt you, but do this for me, you are a good girl, you are good for him, be a comfort to him if anything goes awry'" She looked sad, Hwoarang was feeling uncomfortable.

"He said I was good for you, but not that you were good for me," she shrugged, "I really tried Hwoarang, I tried really hard. I know it doesn't mean anything, not to you, not compared to you, but it hurt me too when he died, he was a brilliant man and I loved him so much."

She was crying now; Hwoarang looked away.

"But I wanted to do exactly what he said, even though being with you hurt me more than I knew was healthy. You tricked me, you made me feel like I was something I wasn't, that I was worth your time, all for your own fun, and by the time I realised it was too late I was stuck."

Hwoarang looked at her, and to his surprise found her smiling, "I wanted to tell you that I loved you."

His expression remained blank, "That night before you left, I wanted you to know, so maybe…when you came back you'd remember me," she finished; she wasn't looking at him.

"I…had no idea." Hwoarang sighed, "I'm sorry."

Nomi shook her head, "Doesn't matter, not then, not now."

She gave a deep, trembling sigh, "You were…are, my first everything, and I know what you went through was worse, but I was lonely without you. I really did miss you so much, and when you'd come back and take me in your arms and make love to me I felt ok about everything, but all the time, before and after, you'd snap at me, order me about, not tell me where you were, and I knew it was a lie, that you were just using me for whatever it is you're using me for, and that hurt even more than-"

"Don't finish." Hwoarang interjected, "You're right about everything. There's nothing I can say except I know I shouldn't have done it. Sabumnim warned me off of you, and I ignored his wishes. I didn't think it at the time, but I realise why he did," he gave her a little smile, though she did not smile back, "Said you were delicate. A guy like me is no good for a girl like you, I'd do nothing but hurt you…and I did."

She nodded in agreement, "But let me finish, you never let me finish."

It caught Hwoarang off guard, and he felt a sudden stab of shame, his Master's words in his ear, "You need to _listen_. You need to _see_."

"Ok." He whispered.

"It…hurt even more than the fact that like you, I ignored Baek and went against his wishes."

It took him a moment to register what she said.

"What?" He felt frozen inside.

Nomi shook her head, "He warned me off you too. Said you were a troublemaker when it came to women, that he didn't want me getting involved with you. I said no way, that wouldn't happen because how on earth could he ever like me? And Baek just gave me this look, the one he gives when he's really looking at something, figuring it out and he just ended by saying to guard myself, to be careful and to think hard. I should have listened to him, should have known better, but I was curious, couldn't believe a guy like you would like a girl like me, guess I was right after all."

Hwoarang had to give an incredulous laugh, "Dammit. I can't believe this."

He shook his head, looking at Nomi, smiling despite himself, "He said the same thing, gave me the same look. He knew what would happen, and all this time I wrote it off. God, I'm such a fuckin' idiot!"

Hwoarang smacked the porch railing with a fist, suddenly feeling small, defeated.

"I'm such a fucking idiot…"

He leaned over the railing, anger and guilt washing over him again. "I let him down so bad, never listened to him, just did whatever the fuck I wanted and to hell with it all, and all he ever tried to do was look out for me and everybody else. I'm such an ungrateful little shit…"

Hwoarang hung his head down onto the railing, groaning in dismay. He felt ridiculous. All this time, Baek had been seeing the bigger picture, had been more aware of Hwoarang and his ways than Hwoarang knew himself. He felt like he barely knew who he was anymore. If he couldn't make heads or tails of his own motivations, what else could he not be sure of?

He couldn't be sure of his own sense could he? What sense had he shown? The first time Baek 'died' Hwoarang had a goal, a purpose, a way to get back at the world but what now? There was nothing he could cling to that could pull him out of his despair. Baek was gone and there was no one to blame, no direction to turn to pursue an end, he was simply existing, unsure, unknown, lost and lonely.

"Who the hell am I?" Hwoarang whispered.

He had not directed the question at Nomi, but she responded.

"You are…Hwoarang."

He clamped his eyes shut. Hwoarang. That name, his name. It was who he was, though he was not always Hwoarang. Baek gave him the name, all those years ago, when he was a scared, nameless child. He remembered that he was fifteen years old, sitting with Baek after training, when Baek asked him about his name, what it was, how he got it. He was Blood Talon then and still was to many, but Baek didn't approve, said that one's name defined who they were, and wouldn't he like a name that represented something he loved?

He had agreed. Baek asked him what he loved, what did he want to be, he said he wanted to be the best and the strongest, someone people looked up to, someone others wanted to be.

Baek hadn't been too happy with this response, said his arrogance and desire for spotlight needed tamed (he'd criticised his insistence on dying his hair red for this very reason) but he thought for a while all the same, and presented a name to him. Hwoarang. Said it meant flowering manhood, represented strength, constant growth and was something other people could look up to. He liked it, so he took it.

He knew all the details, all the history of his name, but so far he hadn't felt like he'd lived up to it. It was Baek's name for him, a gift to him, something that Hwoarang treasured dearly. It bothered him to hear other people say his name where before they could say nothing. He tolerated it only because of Baek, but now he was gone, and he had not been called by that name by anyone unless they wanted their ass handed to them (which he had done several times) but not her.

So far, the girl was the only one who dared call his name despite his warnings, yet he could no longer protest it like he had.

"I thought I told you not to call me that?" He asked, looking up at Nomi; she didn't look back at him.

"Stop running away." She whispered, looking thoughtful.

Hwoarang snarled, "What do you know huh?"

Nomi closed her eyes, "Your name is Hwoarang, that is who you are. Why you're so bothered about me or anyone else calling you that I don't know, but it's who you are and you should be happy to be called as such. It's a wonderful name; you do it no favours in trying to hide it."

He was silent. "What do you know about it?" he asked again.

Nomi gave him a sad look, "I know the origins of it, if that's what you mean," she paused, "If you mean why it's your name specifically, I don't know." She turned away again. He stayed quiet.

Silence continued between the two, the only sound was passing voices and chirping birds as the two of them stared out into the open yard, both lost in their own thoughts.

Finally Nomi spoke up, "I remember how wonderful you looked when you'd train out here," she still did not look over to him, "I thought you were incredible. So confident and strong, so sure of everything you did. You were…beautiful."

Hwoarang noticed that the girl was blushing as she said this.

"You caught me staring at you that day, and you teased me about it. I felt so stupid afterward for thinking those things," she laughed and it was light and heavy at the same time, "I remembered what Baek said and then I wondered how you of all people could be beautiful."

She looked thoughtful again. "Maybe I was wrong about that, but I probably wasn't wrong about you being so sure of everything you did. But…right now, right now I'm doubting even that."

Hwoarang grimaced, "Maybe…maybe you're right. Dammit, I don't know! Fuck it!"

He grabbed his hair in his hands, pulling at it in frustration, "I need to go, I need to think someplace away from here."

Nomi only nodded. Just as he was about to leave, he turned to the girl. Not really sure why, he said, "I'll be back, for once."

Nomi glanced over her shoulder, not budging from her seat. She said nothing, but extended her arm and pointed to the porch table to her right, "Your goggles. You left them in my room yesterday."

Hwoarang turned to find his goggles were set upon the table; he didn't recall leaving them there.

"How-" He started, but Nomi waved a hand, still turned out toward the yard, "I had them with me earlier today."

Her voice was distant, far away. Hwoarang frowned; he thought he understood why.

He left without another word, not sure where he was headed, but certain that he would come back, though every part of him wanted to just leave again at that moment. He leaned against the front door as he closed it, heaving a heavy sigh.

Adjusting the goggles atop his forehead in his familiar fashion, he approached his motorcycle. He sped off, not entirely sure where the day would take him.


	10. X

**X.**

Hwoarang found himself wandering the streets of Seoul. He spent the day trying to forget his troubles on the back of his bike, racing down long stretches of road, swerving around corners and causing problems for residents. He got pleasure out of riding. His bike was one of the few things he cherished, and riding gave him a sense of peace, freedom, happiness, but even the thrill of a good ride was wearing thin, his mind was still clogged, thoughts of his Master, the words he'd said, the looks on Nomi's face, all of it weighed heavy on his heart, he just didn't know what to do to make the pain go away.

Soon enough, Hwoarang found that dusk was fast approaching. He had parked his bike by the coastline and had been staring out to sea while the sun set, trying to sort out his thoughts. He remembered he still had Baek's letter in his back pocket. He felt angry when he remembered back to the day of the reading of the will and how he had thought there was no word to him, then remembered how he had stormed off before Nomi could speak, and had done so on the several occasions he now recalled that she had tried to mention it.

He had never given her the chance. On all occasions when he had shown up, he had simply taken hold of her, ravished her, then proceeded to either fall asleep (usually drunk) or get up and leave again. He barely spoke a word to her, and he had cut her off, telling her not to speak, that nothing she had to say was important. He kicked himself for his stupidity. If he had have just _stopped_, he'd have gotten the letter sooner, the letter he had always wanted.

Tentatively he pulled the letter out of his back pocket. The envelope was unmarked, no indication that it was addressed to him or anyone else. Slowly, carefully, he cut through the binding with a finger, removing the letter, which was two pages long. He sighed, feeling slightly nervous; it would be like hearing the words of a dead man, much the same way it was when the will was read.

He unfolded the letter, and began to read,

_"Hwoarang,_

_I am sure you are wondering why I did not request to have this letter mentioned in my will directly relating to you. Just know that I was only taking into consideration that at the time you may not have been ready to hear all the things I am going to tell you at that particular time. I am sure Nomi did her best to give you this letter when she could, but I predict that your reading of this has come later than it should have. Not to worry, I expected this."_

Hwoarang could not help but laugh a little at this. He continued,

_"No doubt you are hurting, and I can only say sorry for any pain I have caused you. But this has been a long time coming. Hwoarang, I was dying long before I saw fit to write this letter. While I do not know when the killing blow will come, I know that it will be soon. I write this letter on the night before our departure to Japan for the sixth King of Iron Fist Tournament. I will call you shortly after completing this letter to talk to you about matters that I believe to be of the utmost importance. I have never before been open with you, and have kept many aspects of my past life a secret from you. I hope you will take what I say to heart, it's for your own self I say these things to you, because I love you Hak-Saeng, you are a son to me, just know that even in death I am with you, and you'll never have to wonder what I wanted to say or what you wanted me to know._

_I want you to know always that I have faith in you. You can be difficult at times Hwoarang, but your heart is in the right place, it is your ego that I am concerned with. I hope with time you will realise that your decisions and views on the world are not always correct or the best solution, never assume to know the contents of a person's heart. Always be open to hearing and seeing, always be on the lookout for all the little signs that can give away a bigger picture; do not focus only on parts of realities you consider important or fabricate your own reality to fill in for what you cannot see or understand, never be afraid to open up in order to learn more about the world. _

_Don't waste your time clinging to past humiliations and blind goals. You will box yourself in; you will trap yourself and will never find a way out. Take each day as it comes; change yourself when circumstance demands it and you'll always find a way through strife. _

_I know that my death will affect you greatly Hwoarang, but know that I am at peace. I feel sadness only in the knowledge that there was still so much I wished to teach you, but I have faith that you will pursue the correct path and will do me proud. Don't blame yourself if anything happens to me, I am content with my fate and while I had made many mistakes in my life, looking out for you, guiding you and helping you become the man you are today was my greatest joy and privilege. _

_Through you I learnt many things about myself and it helped shape me in more ways than you can know. Feel proud Hwoarang, for you brought joy back to my life after it seemed joy had all but vanished."_

Hwoarang felt his hands trembling, his breath was hitching in his throat, did Baek really…

_"Now I want to state a few of my wishes that I would appreciate your compliance in. Firstly, please take care of Nomi. I am well aware of your relations with her (no, she did not tell me) you have both gone against my wishes and while that grieves me, I knew it would inevitably happen. _

_Maybe you are wondering about the kind of person Nomi is, and why I consider her a good friend in such a small span of time, here I can tell you, as I do not think you would believe Nomi if these words came from her. She is a kind, gentle soul; unassuming and considerate. She is full of doubt and insecurity about her own self. She is gullible and senseless. I could see all of this plainly in her the day she first walked into the dojang. I am fond of her, because she reminds me of myself when I was small. I have more in common with her than I have had in many people over my life. She is everything you dislike in women, and in people. _

_I felt that perhaps in her you could learn something about the nature of doubt and how to handle it, perhaps through her you could learn patience and acceptance for the faults of others and see that there is worth in the things you show no consideration for. Be gentle with her Hwoarang, do not abandon her when she needs you, she will grieve for me almost as much as you will grieve; do not use time as a measure of closeness, her pain is valid._

_Secondly, I simply want you to accept my passing and know that I trust you enough to make your own decisions. You have been reckless and stupid, but you consider my words in some ways. Please consider them fully and trust yourself. Trust wisdom and maturity rather than your ego and fear to escape. You were always running Hwoarang, from pain and fear. You never stopped to feel these feelings and accept them as a part of yourself. I hope you will do that now Hak-saeng, I hope you will stop running from the things that trouble you, as in them there is a treasure._

_I finish this letter now feeling more at peace then I have for a while now. I hope our conversation will go well, and I hope you will move on after me and live your life as the man I know that you are and can be. You are Hwoarang, and I will always be with you, so don't ever be afraid._

_Your Master,_

_Baek."_

There was a feeling of emptiness in the pit of Hwoarang's stomach as he finished the letter. He was frozen on the spot, staring down at the pages, not seeing them anymore. He felt wetness as his eyes and realised he had been crying. The darkness was fast approaching and it took Hwoarang a moment to realise that it was suddenly very cold.

Wiping his eyes, he delicately placed the letter back in its envelope and mounted his bike, speeding off, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, numbness in his limbs.

* * *

Night-time had come completely by the time Hwoarang found himself back at his Master's home. For a moment he stood staring, clutching the handles of his motorcycle tightly, staring out at the building that had been his home for close to ten years. He thought about his initial desire to abandon the house, but suddenly realised after all this time the reason that he couldn't do it was because he genuinely didn't want to.

There were too many memories, happy memories. If he left it all to rot, he'd be running away again, and Hwoarang understood with a small smile that all along the thing that had held him back was none other than his real desire, the thing that he wanted most of all, unclouded and unfettered by fear and pain; there was comfort in the realisation.

All the same, he did not feel like he had the courage to face up to everything just yet. He would probably just retreat to his room, read Baek's letter again, think things over. He wasn't going to run anymore, he felt too sick and too empty inside to even care about running, and if the girl was anything like Baek said she was, she would respect his need for solitude, though Hwoarang noted that all along, Nomi had given him everything he needed as well as those things he thought he needed. He sighed; pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

The house was quiet, sullen. Hwoarang felt his heart grow heavy. Where did he start? How was he going to go about fixing the mess he had so obviously made for both himself and for her? It wasn't like he loved her or really genuinely cared about her, but reading Baek's letter had made him realise that she was valuable in her own way, and the more he realised just how much she had sacrificed for him, the harder it got. All of this would never have happened if he had only have listened to his Master.

But he hadn't, so he had no one to blame but himself. He couldn't blame it on the girl's appearance or even on his hormones. It was a conscious decision he made knowing full well he could turn away from it, but he went ahead anyway, thinking he could hide it, that it wouldn't cause problems, and look were it had landed him.

He knew he didn't love the girl, he only cared because Baek cared and for some reason this fact disturbed him. Did he have no affection for her at all? Could he not appreciate her delicate demeanour or how gentle she was as a person? She had nice eyes, a sweet smile. But he couldn't bring himself to feel anything for any of it.

He looked up to find her there in the hallway. Again Hwoarang noticed just how frail she looked. Her arms where crossed, hands resting on either side of her elbows. Her hair hung lose, her eyes large in the gloom. She looked unsure, almost as if she wasn't quite sure what she was doing confronting him. Silence passed between them in the dead hallway, the weight of memories pressing heavy on Hwoarang's heart. He had to say something didn't he? What could he say that would make it all better?

"You read the letter then?" She asked.

A whisper.

Hwoarang nodded, though he wasn't sure she had seen him respond in the gloom, but she tilted her head as an affirmation.

"You'll probably want left alone yeah?"

Hwoarang remained silent, why…did he want to stay? He closed his eyes, shook his head.

"I…don't know."

No response.

He looked up to see that she had turned away from him, and was approaching the kitchen from where she had come out to greet him. Hwoarang followed her, not really sure why or what for.

They found themselves out on the porch as they had earlier that day. Hwoarang then noticed that Nomi was holding a piece of paper between her fingers in her right hand.

"Is that your letter?" He asked, watching her.

Nomi kept her gaze fixed on the dark yard before her, her features only gently illuminated by the kitchen light from the closed door.

"Yes."

Her voice was hoarse, not with tears or grief, but with exhaustion, like she had given up the effort it took to feel or respond. Hwoarang took up next to the porch railing once again, looking out into the night.

"What does your letter say?" Hwoarang ventured to ask, not entirely sure why.

Nomi shrugged her shoulders, suddenly holding the letter out to him with an extended arm, "You're free to read it."

Hwoarang noticed that it was only a half-page long. He took it tentatively, not sure if he should be doing this.

"Do you want me to?" He asked.

Nomi shrugged again, "Maybe…maybe you'll understand me a little better."

Hwoarang begun to read,

_"Nomi,_

_You have been a comfort to me this past year, I am sure my passing will grieve you and I do not wish to add to the pain I know you are already feeling inside as I write this, but know that you are in my thoughts always. I hope one day that the pain you feel over your losses and your insecurity will lesson with time. You are a beautiful person, never forget that, forgive yourself and please love yourself. You have value and you have worth._

_Please do not feel angry over my knowing of you and Hwoarang, or feel that I used you to his benefit, I only wished to do right by you both, so that you can learn to move on from your mistakes instead of always punishing yourself for them. You are good for him Nomi; there is much he can benefit from you though I know I have taken a massive risk by placing you two on the same path together. _

_Please give this second letter to him after the hearing of my will. He will need you Nomi, and I know that right now all you want to do is to leave and join your sister again and forget all about him, but Hwoarang needs you to stay. I know this will hurt and this is a lot to ask, but you are stronger and kinder than you give yourself credit for. I have faith in you and I have faith that he will not force you out like I know he will probably want to._

_There are things in him you can surly learn also, do not ever think that I had nothing to teach you as well. I will remember our conversations fondly and how your smile would brighten the room._

_Your friend,_

_Baek Doo San"_

Hwoarang handed the letter back to Nomi silently, thinking things over again. So all along Baek knew what he was doing. His Master had been so wonderful at reading people, figuring them out, and then he took a risk. Hwoarang could not in any way blame Baek for this mess of course; he had simply taken the chance to have them both grow and flourish, two people whom he loved dearly.

Hwoarang honestly felt jealous of Nomi just then, for having to have had to share Baek with her. He realised this was stupid, but all the same, he felt the pang of jealously and as he turned to look at her, she was looking back.

"I used to tell him everything," she started, "Everything except about you. That's probably how he figured it out. I'm sorry."

Hwoarang looked down.

"Can you believe I actually feel jealous?" He ventured.

Nomi smiled, "Yeah, I can believe that."

Hwoarang rubbed his tired eyes with a hand.

"He really knew just how to get results didn't he?" Nomi asked; Hwoarang nodded, "He was the best at everything. He used to make me feel so uncomfortable when he wanted to figure out what I was up to. I never realised until recently why he did it."

Nomi smiled, "He scrutinised me that way from the very start. He showed me such kindness that I'd never experienced before. At the interview, he only asked me if I could cook, clean and carry out all kinds of dumb chores, most of the interview was him asking about me as a person; I was there for two hours," Nomi sighed, a smile at her eyes, "I just couldn't help but open up to him, he was like a father to me."

Hwoarang was quiet, feeling a little put out.

"Damn, I never opened up to him about anything except-" he stopped, not wanting to tell Nomi about the hospital incident that had resulted in his harsh training, "Never mind."

Nomi simply looked away. There was silence for a moment, each thinking of their own memories of Baek, healing, finally passing through their grief.

Eventually Nomi let out a pained sigh. It sounded stifled, like she had been trying to hold it in; Hwoarang glanced up.

"Is something wrong?" She was silent for a time, her eyes looked distant, pained.

"I was just thinking how you've never held me, that's all."

She wasn't looking at him. She was staring out into the dark yard, arms wrapped around herself. Hwoarang stared at her for a moment, not really sure what to say. He had hurt her badly, that he knew. He couldn't love her (could he?), didn't love her (did he want to?) it never occurred to him to touch her in a way that would please her, touch her in a way that wasn't for himself.

He never told her things would be ok, never stayed with her, was never kind to her unless it was convenient or led to his purposes. He had fulfilled Baek's prophecy to a tee. He had thoroughly broken Nomi's heart.

He thought back to when Baek had mentioned seeing them together at the ice cream parlour. It was the only time they had spent together outside of the house or the bedroom. He remembered what Baek had said about his intentions being as clear as day, yet all the while her intentions were as clear also, except Hwoarang didn't see them at the time.

He remembered the way she would look away when he looked at her, blush when he touched her hand, how she depreciated herself at every compliment, and he saw very clearly that look in her eyes that he hadn't been able to place, a softness to her eyes, a slight twinge of longing etched in her brows, gentle lips parted like she had wanted to speak but couldn't; she only had that expression when she looked at him, and while back then the look was slight and had only intensified over time, Hwoarang finally knew what it meant.

She may have told him how she felt, but what were words? Hadn't Baek always said it was the hidden things that spoke loudest? She was in love with him, and it wasn't some dopey crush all the other girls had, were they'd cry for a day at rejection then forget like it always was. No, this was real love.

She loved him, gave herself up to him even when it hurt her to do so, had needed him and yearned for him when he wasn't there. Took all of his abuse and yet still cared and tended to him when he couldn't do it himself. She loved him with everything she was and he had broken her.

Hwoarang remembered all the little moments. All the small interactions and conversions he engaged her in in order to draw her to him and into his bed. He'd been so smooth, charming her with sly smiles, whispering in her ear, running light fingers over her skin, saying she was beautiful, lovely, perfect. He could see now that she had little esteem, had never felt special or significant, and there he was, telling her all the things she had wanted to hear, making her feel valued, needed, and all the time it was a big sham, but how could she not fall in love with him? How could she not think he was wonderful, beautiful?

He realised with utter disgust that his selfishness was utmost. He realised he had no kindness or courtesy, no respect for the fragile esteem of a poor, gullible girl who deserved to be treated well, no respect for anyone else; not even for Baek, not really, not truly.

"I've been the biggest fool."

Hwoarang clamped his eyes closed, his regret and shame washing over him, making him falter. He gripped the porch railing tightly in his hands, head down, "All my life, I've been an idiot. I never cared about anyone, showed any true consideration for anyone else or how they felt. I ignored all the signs, brushed off every bit of advice, never righted any wrongs. I've done nothing but be a horrible dick only looking out for himself and…God I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Somehow Nomi understood it wasn't her he was talking to. She turned, not looking at the redhead beside her, and left him alone. Hwoarang smiled; maybe one day he could read people well enough like she could, like Baek could.

"I let you down Sabumnim. I let you down and ignored everything you ever tried to teach me. I only ever took on what I wanted to and left everything else out, I never cared to see anything deeper than the surface, never realised that what I did could cause so much pain and hurt. I never realised how alone I was and how that terrified me. I'm sorry for running, I'm sorry for when I wound you up or disobeyed you or ignored you or for the hundreds of other little things I did to hurt you."

Hwoarang was trembling; he could feel tears burning his eyes.

"I'm sorry about the time I stole your wallet and spent all your money, I'm sorry about the time I flung a baseball bat through your study room window by accident and gave you grief when you tried to punish me. I'm sorry I snuck off at night to go drinking and stealing money, I'm sorry I was in a gang, I'm sorry you had to physically drag me away from street fights, I'm sorry that I ever made you angry, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, sorry I just spent all my time running away instead of staying put and thinking like an adult would. I'm sorry about everything, especially for what I am now, especially for not being the Hwoarang you wanted me to be…"

He'd sunk to his knees; he was sobbing, all his pain and suffering pouring out of him in one anguished torrent. He couldn't breathe, all he could think was how sorry he was, how distressed he was that he'd never get to say goodbye, never get to say these things to his Master and make amends, put things right.

"I'm really sorry, I'm so sorry I never looked or paid attention. Maybe if I had you wouldn't have died…"

* * *

It was some time before Hwoarang managed to pull himself off the porch and back into the house. He found Nomi in her room, sitting on the bed, her letter in her hand. She frowned when she looked at his red eyes and puffy features.

"Are you ok?"

Hwoarang gave a sigh, "It feels like I've thrown up my insides from crying."

He suddenly didn't care to keep his feelings hidden anymore. He was exhausted, defeated. He couldn't run from his pain anymore and the reality of Baek's passing with solidified fully in his heart with the possession of the letter, which Hwoarang had clung tightly in his hand, having read it several times by the dull light of the kitchen through the porch door.

"I felt that way too." She replied.

"You really cared about him didn't you?" Hwoarang asked.

"Yes, very much. My own father was never as kind as he was; maybe that's why I'm so insecure, I don't know."

Hwoarang nodded, "I never knew who my dad was. Sabumnim was the closest thing I ever had to a dad."

"You've never used that term with me before." Nomi was looking at him with a slight look of confusion, Hwoarang gaped; she was right.

"Well uhh…maybe uh…well, it feels like I should." He reasoned; Nomi smiled.

"He loved his own father a lot," she mused, "Maybe that's why he was like a father to us both."

Hwoarang only nodded, "He never spoke about his father to me."

"Nor to me, just said he was a great man and a wonderful father, really looked up to him."

Hwoarang fidgeted, "Man, I never thought I would be talking to you like this. About him, I mean."

Nomi's eyes grew cloudy, "Yeah…"

They remained silent, Hwoarang by the door, Nomi on her bed. There was awkwardness between them, something had changed. In a way Hwoarang wished then that he was in love with the girl, maybe if he was things wouldn't be the way they were, they could repair the damage together, but he knew it was just a pipe dream. What would Baek say he should do? He'd want him to make things as right as he could, but how did one fix unrequited love?

"Nomi?"

She looked up, her expression one of expectation, like she knew by the tone of his voice what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I really didn't pay attention to you or to Baek, and that means I've hurt you badly, all for my own selfish reasons. There's nothing I can say or do that could make things better, but for what it's worth…I am genuinely sorry."

Nomi smiled sadly.

"Thank you Hwoarang," she responded quietly, "I really do love you, but I know that you don't."

He nodded, "Though…I wish I did."

Nomi gave a small choked laugh, "I know you can't. You'll never love me, not now, not ever."

Hwoarang said nothing.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"So what now?"

The sunlight was strong, casting a fierce glare in Hwoarang's eyes as he glanced up at the sky from the front yard. Nomi stood at the doorway, arms crossed, look thoughtful.

"I don't know. I know that without Baek here there's nothing holding me here now. If you're leaving, then I guess I'll be leaving too." She said.

Hwoarang looked around at her, "Where?"

Nomi smiled, "With my ridiculous older sister. She's shacking up with her girlfriend on the other side of Seoul, said I should join her last time we spoke."

Hwoarang raised an eyebrow, "Your sister is a-"

"Yes," Nomi smiled at Hwoarang's dreamy look, "You're not meeting her." She finished. Hwoarang snickered.

He watched her for a while after she had turned away from looking at him. In many ways he had become fond of her. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, she had been a comfort to him, and he suddenly felt that her presence would be missed. She had made things interesting and he found that he'd come to appreciate her shrinking violet personality; Baek appeared to be right after all.

She was looking thoughtful, brown hair tied in a messy bun, strands of lose hair almost like gold in the sunlight. Her face was like porcelain, her lips red and brown eyes deep; Hwoarang suddenly found himself thinking that she was beautiful.

She turned to him then, having noticed him watching her, "What's wrong?"

Looking at her face, hearing her gentle voice, Hwoarang almost wanted to take hold of her and…

"Nothing."

He waved his hand; as much as he was willing to try and embrace the lessons of his late Master, there were still some things he wasn't so sure of. Nomi watched him and he watched her back. Their eyes met, held for a moment, and Hwoarang suspected she knew.

"I'll just go back to my old apartment; the gang have been keeping it for me."

"Are you sure it's wise to go back there?" She asked.

Hwoarang was thoughtful, "I can't stay here Nomi, not without-"

He stopped himself, did he almost…

"Without Baek. I know."

But she was smiling a little, Hwoarang smiled back, gave a sigh.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around?" He ventured to ask.

"That depends," Nomi unfolded her arms, approaching him slowly, Hwoarang watched her. Was she…

She stopped in front of him, took his hand in hers. Hwoarang glanced away from her.

"Will you stay in touch? I know how you feel about me but…if you ever come back here, I'll come back too."

Her head was bowed, her eyes soft, cheeks flushed slightly. Her grip on his hand was tight, like she was afraid to let go; he couldn't help but grip it back. Looking at her face, her heart bore open before him, Hwoarang saw just how much she loved him, and how much she was still hurting over the fact; he sighed.

"I'm sorry Nomi. I really am."

She nodded, "I know I know I just…I just want to be near you." She whispered.

Hwoarang bit his lip. He found himself thinking about what she had said the previous night, about how he'd never held her and while he honestly felt reluctance, Hwoarang slowly brought his free hand up and around her back, pulling the girl close to him.

Nomi gave a start as Hwoarang wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tightly to him.

"What-" She breathed.

Hwoarang shushed her, "You said I never held you, well, I am now."

She gave a strangled, choked sort of laugh, her emotions getting the better of her, "Thank you."

She shuddered a little, her hands coming up around his back to hold him back, her face burrowed in his shoulder, trembling. Hwoarang felt a little sick as he held her for a moment, not really sure what he was doing was right.

Nomi pulled away from him suddenly, standing back.

"I'll see you around."

She tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. Hwoarang looked around at his bike and sighed.

"Yeah, I'll see you around."

He mounted, turning to look at her one last time before he sped off, but she had already turned away, heading back to the house, not wanting to see him go.

* * *

He felt better today than he had in months. Hwoarang realised that he was finally moving on in his grief, passing over his disbelief and anger, accepting the death of his Master. He still felt lost, unsure, but it didn't seem so daunting anymore, didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

He knew that no part of him would ever be the same again, that he had fundamentally changed somehow, but for now, he was content to lend himself over to the feel of the wind in his hair as he sped down the highway, feeling freer and lighter than he had felt in a long time.

He spent a long time just riding out of the city, not intent on going back to his old apartment for a while. Perhaps he'd bar hop, have a drink or two, not in an attempt to forget, but for fun, like he used to. He went back to the coast where he first read Baek's letter, and stood for a while just thinking things through.

Baek really had given his all for him, and while Hwoarang would always feel guilt over his heedless behaviour, he took comfort in knowing Baek forgave him these things. He still blamed himself for his death however, and he wasn't convinced anything would change his mind on that. Baek could still very well be here with him now, even though he knew he was dying.

Hwoarang thought it strange that Baek had not mentioned it, or what it was that was the cause of his inevitable fate. He guessed Baek had simply not wanted to worry him; after all, was it something worth knowing?

Hwoarang gave a heavy sigh, closing his eyes, running memories of his time with Baek through his mind's eye. He recalled their first encounter, when Hwoarang had tried to steal his wallet on the corner of a street, only to be punished severely with a crafty blow. He remembered his first time in the dojang, when he'd come looking for lessons, remembered all the mistakes Baek chided him for, remembered his pain the first time he lost him and then his joy on finding him again.

Hwoarang gave a small, sad smile, opening his eyes to see the setting sun out on the horizon; he was determined never to forget the lessons of his Master.

"Goodbye, Sabumnim."


End file.
